THE  WORKS  OF 

IGS' 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

FREDERIC  THOMAS  BLANCHARD 

FOR  THE 
ENGLISH  READING  ROOM 


'Xs-        S     "9  ^ 

"  }          r    r  x*     -,/f 

fit    ^\7T    /  &  &•  "dft*** 

^2         '/         9     f  /  ^  / / 

L/  iM_^  L    CT^.  6  -        /  /  /  ^ 

(r  / 


CASTLE    MOUND    AT    CAMBRIDGE 

Drawn  from  a  photograph,  and  appears  exclusively  in  this 
edition  of  Kingsley. 

This  is  still  pointed  out  to  visitors  as  the 
point  from  which  William  the  Conqueror  di- 
rected his  attacks  on  Hereward.  Although 
William  landed  in  England  September  28,  1066, 
and  was  crowned  King  at  Westminster  on 
December  25th,  after  that  decisive  battle  of 
Hastings  which  decided  the  right  of  power 
between  the  English  and  Norman  nations,  it 
took  almost  five  years  more  to  complete  the 
conquest  of  England. 

Hereward  was  killed  in  1071.  Ingulf  says 
Vorfrida  died  about  1085. 

"Hereward  the   Wake" 


M 

THE    BIDEFORD    EDITION 

1 

NOVELS,    POEMS  &*  LETTERS 
OF   CHARLES    K.INGSLEY 

HEREWARD 

THE  WAKE 

VOLUME  I 

BY  CHARLES  [KINGSLEY 

ILLUSTRATED 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

THE    CO-OPERATIVE 
PUBLICATION  SOCIETY 

O^^^iO 

fi 

Copyright,  1898 
BY  J.  F.  TAYLOR  &  COMPANY 


Herewwd. 
Volume  I. 


CONTENTS 

VOLUME  I 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

PRELUDK  — OF  THE  FENS i 

I.  How   HEREWARD  WAS  OUTLAWED,  AND  WENT 

NORTH  TO  SEEK  HIS  FORTUNES 23 

II.  How  HEREWARD  SLEW  THE  BEAR 69 

III.  How     HEREWARD    SUCCORED     A  PRINCESS     OF 

CORNWALL 87 

IV.  How  HEREWARD  TOOK  SERVICE  WITH  RANALD, 

KING  OF  WATERFORD na 

V.  How  HEREWARD   SUCCORED   THE    PRINCESS  OF 

CORNWALL  A  SECOND  TIME 129 

VI.  How    HEREWARD    WAS    WRECKED    UPON    THE 

FLANDERS  SHORE 139 

VII.   How     HEREWARD    WENT    TO     THE    WAR    AT 

GUISNES 159 

VIII.   How  A    FAIR  LADY   EXERCISED   THE  MECHANI- 
CAL ART  TO  WIN  HEREWARD'S  LOVE     ...    167 
IX.   How  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  WAR  IN  SCALD- 

MARILAND 175 

X.   How  HEREWARD  WON  THE  MAGIC  ARMOR.    .  185 
XL  How  THE  HOLLANDERS  TOOK  HEREWARD  FOR 

A  MAGICIAN 202 

XII.   How  HEREWARD  TURNED  BERSERKER    ....  204 

XIII.  How  HEREWARD  WON  MARE  SWALLOW     ...  213 

XIV.  How    HEREWARD   RODE   INTO    BRUGES   LIKE  A 

BEGGARMAN 224 

Vol.  12— A 


x  Contents 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XV.  How   EARL  TOSTI  GODWINSSON   CAME  TO  ST. 

OMER 232 

XVI.  How  HEREWARD  WAS  ASKED  TO  SLAY  AN  OLD 

COMRADE 246 

XVII.  How  HEREWARD  TOOK  THE  NEWS  FROM  STAN- 

FORD-BRIGG  AND  HASTINGS 257 

XVIII.  How  EARL  GODWIN'S  WIDOW  CAME  TO  ST.  OMER    271 
XIX.  How  HEREWARD  CLEARED  BOURNE  OF  FRENCH- 
MEN    293 

XX.   How   HEREWARD  WAS  MADE  A  KNIGHT  AFTER 

THE  FASHION  OF  THE  ENGLISH 311 


To  THOMAS  WRIGHT,  ESQ.,  F.S.A.,  ETC.,  ETC. 

MY  DEAR  WRIGHT, — Thus  does  Hereward,  the  hero  of 
your  youth,  reappear  at  last  in  a  guise  fitted  for  a  modern 
drawing-room.  To  you  is  due  whatever  new  renown  he 
may  win  for  himself  in  that  new  field.  You  first  disin- 
terred him,  long  ago,  when  scarcely  a  hand  or  foot  of 
him  was  left  standing  out  from  beneath  the  dust  of  ages. 
You  taught  me,  since  then,  how  to  furbish  his  rusty 
harness,  botch  his  bursten  saddle,  and  send  him  forth 
once  more,  upon  the  ghost  of  his  gallant  mare.  Truly 
he  should  feel  obliged  to  you ;  and  though  we  cannot 
believe  that  the  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds  endures 
beyond  the  grave,  or  that  any  touch  of  his  old  vanity 
still  stains  the  spirit  of  the  mighty  Wake,  yet  we  will 
please  ourselves  —  why  should  we  not  ?  —  with  the  fancy 
that  he  is  as  grateful  to  you  as  I  am  this  day. 

Yours  faithfully, 

C.  KJNGSLEY. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

"LAST  OF  THE  ENGLISH" 


PRELUDE 

OF  THE   FENS 

THE  heroic  deeds  of  Highlanders,  both  in  these 
islands  and  elsewhere,  have  been  told  in 
verse  and  prose,  and  not  more  often,  nor  more 
loudly,  than  they  deserve.  But  we  must  remem- 
ber, now  and  then,  that  there  have  been  heroes 
likewise  in  the  lowland  and  in  the  fen.  Why,  how- 
ever, poets  have  so  seldom  sung  of  them ;  why  no 
historian,  save  Mr.  Motley  in  his  "  Rise  of  the 
Dutch  Republic,"  has  condescended  to  tell  the  tale 
of  theii  doughty  deeds,  is  a  question  not  difficult 
to  answer. 

In  the  first  place,  they  have  been  fewer  in  num- 
ber. The  lowlands  of  the  world,  being  the  richest 
spots,  have  been  generally  the  soonest  conquered, 
the  soonest  civilized,  and  therefore  the  soonest 
taken  out  of  the  sphere  of  romance  and  wild  adven- 
ture, into  that  of  order  and  law,  hard  work  and 
common  sense,  as  well  as  —  too  often  —  into  the 
sphere  of  slavery,  cowardice,  luxury,  and  ignoble 
greed.  The  lowland  populations,  for  the  same 
reasons,  have  been  generally  the  first  to  deteriorate, 


2  Hereward  the  Wake 

though  not  on  account  of  the  vices  of  civilization. 
The  vices  of  incivilization  are  far  worse,  and  far  more 
destructive  of  human  life ;  and  it  is  just  because 
they  are  so,  that  rude  tribes  deteriorate  physically 
less  than  polished  nations.  In  the  savage  struggle 
for  life,  none  but  the  strongest,  healthiest,  cunning- 
est,  have  a  chance  of  living,  prospering,  and  propa- 
gating their  race.  In  the  civilized  state,  on  the 
contrary,  the  weakliest  and  the  silliest,  protected 
by  law,  religion,  and  humanity,  have  their  chance 
likewise,  and  transmit  to  their  offspring  their  own 
weakliness  or  silliness.  In  these  islands,  for  in- 
stance, at  the  time  of  the  Norman  Conquest,  the 
average  of  man  was  doubtless  superior,  both  in 
body  and  mind,  to  the  average  of  man  now,  simply 
because  the  weaklings  could  not  have  lived  at  all ; 
and  the  rich  and  delicate  beauty,  in  which  the  wo- 
men of  the  Eastern  Counties  still  surpass  all  other 
races  in  these  isles,  was  doubtless  far  more  common 
in  proportion  to  the  numbers  of  the  population. 

Another  reason  why  lowland  heroes  "  carent 
vate  sacro,"  is  that  the  lowlands  and  those  who 
live  in  them  are  wanting  in  the  poetic  and  romantic 
elements.  There  is  in  the  lowland  none  of  that 
background  of  the  unknown  fantastic,  magical, 
terrible,  perpetually  feeding  curiosity  and  wonder, 
which  still  remains  in  the  Scottish  Highlands ;  and 
which,  when  it  disappears  from  thence,  will  remain 
embalmed  forever  in  the  pages  of  Walter  Scott. 
Against  that  half-magical  background  his  heroes 
stand  out  in  vivid  relief;  and  justly  so.  It  was 
not  put  there  by  him  for  stage  purposes ;  it  was 
there  as  a  fact;  and  the  men  of  whom  he  wrote 
were  conscious  of  it,  were  moulded  by  it,  were  not 
ashamed  of  its  influence.  For  Nature  among  the 


Of  the  Fens  3 

mountains  is  too  fierce,  too  strong  for  man.  He 
cannot  conquer  her,  and  she  awes  him.  He  can- 
not dig  down  the  cliffs,  or  chain  the  storm-blasts ; 
and  his  fear  of  them  takes  bodily  shape :  he  be- 
gins to  people  the  weird  places  of  the  earth  with 
weird  beings,  and  sees  nixies  in  the  dark  linns  as  he 
fishes  by  night,  dwarfs  in  the  caves  where  he  digs, 
half-trembling,  morsels  of  iron  and  copper  for  his 
weapons,  witches  and  demons  on  the  snow-blast 
which  overwhelms  his  herd  and  his  hut,  and  in  the 
dark  clouds  which  brood  on  the  untrodden  moun- 
tain peak.  He  lives  in  fear :  and  yet,  if  he  be  a 
valiant-hearted  man,  his  fears  do  him  little  harm. 
They  may  break  out,  at  times,  in  witch-manias, 
with  all  their  horrible  suspicions,  and  thus  breed 
cruelty,  which  is  the  child  of  fear:  but  on  the 
whole  they  rather  produce  in  man  thoughtfulness, 
reverence,  a  sense,  confused  yet  precious,  of  the 
boundless  importance  of  the  unseen  world.  His 
superstitions  develop  his  imagination ;  the  moving 
accidents  of  a  wild  life  call  out  in  him  sympathy 
and  pathos ;  and  the  mountaineer  becomes  instinc- 
tively a  poet. 

The  lowlander,  on  the  other  hand,  has  his  own 
strength,  his  own  "virtues,"  or  manfulnesses,  in 
the  good  old  sense  of  the  word :  but  they  are  not 
for  the  most  part  picturesque,  or  even  poetical. 

He  finds  out,  soon  enough  for  his  weal  and  his 
bane,  that  he  is  stronger  than  Nature :  and  right 
tyrannously  and  irreverently  he  lords  it  over  her, 
clearing,  delving,  dyking,  building,  without  fear  or 
shame.  He  knows  of  no  natural  force  greater  than 
himself,  save  an  occasional  thunder-storm;  and 
against  that,  as  he  grows  more  cunning,  he  insures 
his  crops.  Why  should  he  reverence  Nature? 


4  Hereward  the  Wake 

Let  him  use  her,  and  live  by  her.  One  cannot 
blame  him.  Man  was  sent  into  the  world  (so  says 
the  Scripture)  to  fill  and  subdue  the  earth.  But 
he  was  sent  into  the  world  for  other  purposes  also, 
which  the  lowlander  is  but  too  apt  to  forget.  With 
the  awe  of  Nature,  the  awe  of  the  unseen  dies  out 
in  him.  Meeting  with  no  visible  superior,  he  is 
apt  to  become  not  merely  unpoetical  and  irreverent, 
but  somewhat  of  a  sensualist  and  an  atheist.  The 
sense  of  the  beautiful  dies  out  in  him  more  and 
more.  He  has  little  or  nothing  around  him  to 
refine  or  lift  up  his  soul ;  and  unless  he  meet  with 
a  religion  and  with  a  civilization  which  can  deliver 
him,  he  may  sink  into  that  dull  brutality  which 
is  too  common  among  the  lowest  classes  of 
the  English  Lowlands,  and  remain  for  generations 
gifted  with  the  strength  and  industry  of  the  ox 
and  with  the  courage  of  the  lion,  but  alas !  with 
the  intellect  of  the  former  and  the  self-restraint  of 
the  latter. 

Nevertheless,  there  may  be  a  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  a  lowland  race  when  they,  too,  become 
historic  for  a  while.  There  was  such  a  period  for 
the  men  of  the  Eastern  and  Central  Counties ;  for 
they  proved  it  by  their  deeds. 

When  the  men  of  Wessex,  the  once  conquering, 
and  even  to  the  last  the  most  civilized,  race  of 
Britain,  fell  at  Hastings  once  and  for  all,  and 
struck  no  second  blow,  then  the  men  of  the  Dane- 
lagh disdained  to  yield  to  the  Norman  invader. 
For  seven  long  years  they  held  their  own,  not 
knowing,  like  true  Englishmen,  when  they  were 
beaten;  and  fought  on  desperate,  till  there  were 
none  left  to  fight.  Their  bones  lay  white  on  every 
island  in  the  fens ;  their  corpses  rotted  on  gallows 


Of  the  Fens  5 

beneath  every  Norman  keep ;  their  few  survivors 
crawled  into  monasteries,  with  eyes  picked  out, 
hands  and  feet  cut  off ;  or  took  to  the  wild  wood 
as  strong  outlaws,  like  their  successors  and  repre- 
sentatives, Robin  Hood,  Scarlet,  and  Little  John ; 
Adam  Bell,  and  Clym  of  the  Cleugh,  and  William 
of  Cloudeslee.  But  they  never  really  bent  their 
necks  to  the  Norman  yoke ;  they  kept  alive  in 
their  hearts  that  proud  spirit  of  personal  independ- 
ence, which  they  brought  with  them  from  the 
moors  of  Denmark  and  the  dales  of  Norway;  and 
they  kept  alive,  too,  though  in  abeyance  for  a  while, 
those  free  institutions  which  were  without  a  doubt 
the  germs  of  our  British  liberty. 

They  were  a  changed  folk  since  first  they  settled 
in  that  Danelagh ;  since  first  in  the  days  of  King 
Beorhtric,  "  in  the  year  787,  three  ships  of  North- 
men came  from  Haeretha  land,  and  the  King's 
reeve  rode  to  the  place,  and  would  have  driven 
them  up  to  the  King's  town,  for  he  knew  not  what 
men  they  were :  but  they  slew  him  there  and 
then ;  "  and  after  that  the  Saxons  and  Angles 
began  to  find  out  to  their  bitter  bale  what  men 
they  were,  those  fierce  Vikings  out  of  the  dark 
northeast. 

But  they  had  long  ceased  to  burn  farms,  sack 
convents,  torture  monks  for  gold,  and  slay  every 
human  being  they  met,  in  mere  Berserker  lust  of 
blood.  No  Barnakill  could  now  earn  his  nick- 
name by  entreating  his  comrades,  as  they  tossed 
the  children  on  their  spear-points,  to  "  Na  kill  the 
barns."  Gradually  they  had  settled  down  on  the 
land,  intermarried  with  the  Angles  and  Saxons, 
and  colonized  all  England  north  and  east  of  Wat- 
ling  Street  (a  rough  line  from  London  to  Chester), 


6  Hereward  the  Wake 

as  far  as  the  Tees.1  Gradually  they  had  deserted 
Thor  and  Odin  for  "  the  White  Christ ;  "  had  their 
own  priests  and  bishops,  and  built  their  own  min- 
sters. The  convents  which  the  fathers  had  de- 
stroyed, the  sons,  or  at  least  the  grandsons,  rebuilt ; 
and  often,  casting  away  sword  and  axe,  they 
entered  them  as  monks  themselves;  and  Peter- 
borough, Ely,  and  above  all  Crowland,  destroyed 
by  them  in  Alfred's  time  with  a  horrible  destruc- 
tion, had  become  their  holy  places,  where  they 
decked  the  altars  with  gold  and  jewels,  with  silks 
from  the  far  East,  and  furs  from  the  far  North; 
and  where,  as  in  sacred  fortresses,  they,  and  the 
liberty  of  England  with  them,  made  their  last 
unavailing  stand. 

For  a  while  they  had  been  lords  of  all  England. 
The  Anglo-Saxon   race  was  wearing   out      The 

1  For  the  distribution  of  Danish  and  Norwegian  names  in 
England  and  the  prevalence,  north  of  the  Danelagh,  from  Tees 
to  Forth,  of  names  neither  Scandinavian  nor  Celtic,  but  purely 
Anglo-Saxon,  consult  the  Rev.  Isaac  Taylor's  book,  "  Words 
and  Places."  Bear  in  mind,  meanwhile,  that  these  names  repre- 
sent for  the  most  part,  if  not  altogether,  the  Danish  and  Norse 
settlement  at  the  end  of  the  ninth  century  :  but  that  this  Scandi- 
navian element  was  further  strengthened  by  the  free  men  who 
conquered  England  under  Sweyn  and  Canute,  at  the  beginning 
of  the  eleventh  century.  These  men  seem  to  have  become  not 
so  much  settlers  of  great  lands  as  an  intrusive  military  aristocracy, 
who  gave  few  or  no  names  to  estates,  but  amalgamated  them- 
selves rapidly  by  marriage  with  the  remnants  of  that  English 
nobility  which  was  destroyed  at  the  battle  of  Assingdon.  This 
fact  explains  the  number  of  purely  Anglo-Saxon  names  to  be 
met  with  among  Hereward's  companions.  Some  of  them,  like 
"  Goderic  of  Corby,"  themselves  with  English  names,  held 
manors  with  Danish  ones,  even  in  that  part  of  Lincolnshire 
where  the  Scandinavian  element  was  strongest.  In  fact,  the  aris- 
tocracies and  the  two  races  had  been  thoroughly  amalgamated, 
not  merely  in  the  Danelagh,  but  over  the  greater  part  of  England, 
and  must  be  called,  as  in  the  case  of  King  Harold  Godwinsson, 
neither  Saxons  nor  Anglo-Saxons,  but  rather  Anglo-Danes. 


Of  the  Fens  7 

men  of  Wessex,  priest-ridden,  and  enslaved  by 
their  own  aristocracy,  quailed  before  the  free 
Norsemen,  among  whom  was  not  a  single  serf. 
The  God-descended  line  of  Cerdic  and  Alfred  was 
exhausted.  Vain,  incapable,  profligate  kings,  the 
tools  of  such  prelates  as  Odo  and  Dunstan,  were 
no  match  for  such  wild  heroes  as  Thorkill  the 
Tall,  or  Olaf  Trygvasson,  or  Swend  Forkbeard. 
The  Danes  had  gradually  seized,  not  only  their 
own  Danelagh  and  Northumbria,  but  great  part  of 
Wessex.  Vast  sums  of  Danegelt  were  yearly  sent 
out  of  the  country  to  buy  off  the  fresh  invasions 
which  were  perpetually  threatened.  Then  Ethel- 
red  the  Unready,  or  rather  Evil-counsel,  advised 
himself  to  fulfil  his  name,  and  the  curse  which 
Dunstan  had  pronounced  against  him  at  the  bap- 
tismal font.  By  his  counsel  the  men  of  Wessex 
rose  against  the  unsuspecting  Danes;  and  on 
St.  Bf ice's  eve,  A.  D.  1002,  murdered  them  all,  or 
nearly  all,  man,  woman,  and  child.  It  may  be 
that  they  only  did  to  the  children  as  the  fathers 
had  done  to  them:  but  the  deed  was  "worse  than 
a  crime ;  it  was  a  mistake."  The  Danes  of  the 
Danelagh  and  of  Northumbria,  their  brothers  of 
Denmark  and  Norway,  the  Orkneys  and  the  east 
coast  of  Ireland,  remained  unharmed.  A  mighty 
host  of  Vikings  poured  from  thence  into  England 
the  very  next  year,  under  Swend  Forkbeard  and 
the  great  Canute ;  and  after  thirteen  fearful  cam- 
paigns came  the  great  battle  of  Assingdon  in 
Essex  —  where  "  Canute  had  the  victory ;  and  all 
the  English  nation  fought  against  him ;  and  all  the 
nobility  of  the  English  race  was  there  destroyed." 
That  same  year  saw  the  mysterious  death  of 
Edmund  Ironside,  the  last  man  of  Cerdic's  race 


8  Hereward  the  Wake 

worthy  of  the  name.  For  the  next  twenty- five 
years,  Danish  kings  ruled  from  the  Forth  to  the 
Land's  End. 

A  noble  figure  he  was,  that  great  and  wise 
Canute,  the  friend  of  the  famous  Godiva,  and  Leo- 
fric,  Godiva's  husband,  and  Godwin  Ulfnothsson, 
and  Siward  Digre;  trying  to  expiate  by  justice  and 
mercy  the  dark  deeds  of  his  blood-stained  youth ; 
trying  (and  not  in  vain)  to  blend  the  two  races 
over  which  he  ruled ;  rebuilding  the  churches  and 
monasteries  which  his  father  had  destroyed ;  bring- 
ing back  in  state  to  Canterbury  the  body  of  Arch- 
bishop Elphege  —  not  unjustly  called  by  the 
Saxons  martyr  and  saint  —  whom  Tall  Thorkill's 
men  had  murdered  with  beef  bones  and  ox  skulls, 
because  he  would  not  give  up  to  them  the  money 
destined  for  God's  poor ;  rebuking,  as  every  child 
has  heard,  his  housecarles'  flattery  by  setting  his 
chair  on  the  brink  of  the  rising  tide;  and  then 
laying  his  golden  crown,  in  token  of  humility,  on 
the  high  altar  of  Winchester,  never  to  wear  it  more. 
In  Winchester  lie  his  bones,  unto  this  day,  or 
what  of  them  the  civil  wars  have  left ;  and  by  them 
lie  the  bones  of  his  son  Hardicanute,  in  whom,  as 
in  his  half-brother  Harold  Harefoot,  before  him, 
the  Danish  power  fell  to  swift  decay,  by  insolence 
and  drink  and  civil  war;  while  with  the  Danish 
power  England  fell  to  pieces  likewise. 

Canute  had  divided  England  into  four  great 
Earldoms,  each  ruled,  under  him,  by  a  jarl,  or  earl, 
a  Danish,  not  a  Saxon  title. 

At  his  death  in  1036,  the  earldoms  of  Northum- 
bria  and  East  Anglia  —  the  more  strictly  Danish 
parts  —  were  held  by  a  true  Danish  hero,  Siward 
Biorn,  alias  Digre,  "the  Stout,"  conqueror  of 


Of  the  Fens  9 

Macbeth,  and  son  of  the  fairy  bear;  proving  his 
descent,  men  said,  by  his  pointed  and  hairy  ears. 

Mercia,  the  great  central  plateau  of  England, 
was  held  by  Earl  Leofric,  husband  of  the  famous 
Lady  Godiva. 

Wessex,  which  Canute  had  at  first  kept  in  his 
own  hands,  had  passed  into  those  of  the  famous 
Earl  Godwin,  the  then  ablest  man  in  England. 
Possessed  of  boundless  tact  and  cunning,  gifted 
with  an  eloquence,  which  seems  from  the  accounts 
remaining  of  it  to  have  been  rather  that  of  a  Greek 
than  an  Englishman;  and  married  to  Canute's 
niece,1  he  was  fitted,  alike  by  fortunes  and  by 
talents,  to  be  the  king-maker  which  he  became. 

Such  a  system  may  have  worked  well  as  long 
as  the  brain  of  a  hero  was  there  to  overlook  it  all. 
But  when  that  brain  was  turned  to  dust,  the  history 
of  England  became,  till  the  Norman  Conquest, 
little  more  than  the  history  of  the  rivalries  of  the 
two  great  houses  of  Godwin  and  Leofric. 

Leofric  had  the  first  success  in  king-making. 
He,  though  bearing  a  Saxon  name,  seems  to  have 
been  the  champion  of  the  Danish  party,  and  of 
Canute's  son  or  reputed  son,  Harold  Harefoot; 
and  he  succeeded,  by  the  help  of  the  Thanes  north 
of  Thames,  and  the  lithsmen  of  London,  which 
city  was  more  than  half  Danish  in  those  days,  in 

1  The  Archaeological  Journal,  in  vol.  xi.  and  vol.  xii.,  contains 
two  excellent  Articles  on  the  Life  and  Death  of  Earl  Godwin,  from 
the  pen  of  that  able  antiquary  E.  A.  Freeman,  Esq.  By  him  the 
facts  of  Godwin's  life  have  been  more  carefully  investigated,  and 
his  character  more  fully  judged,  than  by  any  author  of  whom  I  am 
aware;  and  I  am  the  more  bound  to  draw  attention  to  these 
articles,  because,  some  years  since,  I  had  a  little  paper  controversy 
with  Mr.  Freeman  on  this  very  subject.  I  have  now  the  pleasure 
of  saying  that  he  has  proved  himself  to  have  been  in  the  right, 
while  I  was  in  the  wrong. 


io  Hereward  the  Wake 

setting  his  puppet  on  the  throne.  But  the  blood 
of  Canute  had  exhausted  itself.  Within  seven 
years  Harold  Harefoot,  and  Hardicanute,  who 
succeeded  him,  had  died  as  foully  as  they  lived ; 
and  Godwin's  turn  had  come. 

He,  though  married  to  a  Danish  princess,  and 
acknowledging  his  Danish  connection  by  the  Norse 
names  which  were  borne  by  his  three  most  famous 
sons,  Harold,  Sweyn,  and  Tostig,  constituted  him- 
self (with  a  sound  patriotic  instinct)  the  champion 
of  the  men  of  Wessex,  and  the  house  of  Cerdic. 
He  had  probably  caused,  or  at  least  allowed,  to 
be  murdered,  Alfred,  the  Etheling,  King  Ethel- 
red's  son  and  heir-apparent,  when  he  was  support- 
ing the  claims  of  Hardicanute  against  Harefoot; 
he  now  tried  to  atone  for  that  crime  (if  indeed 
he  actually  committed  it),  by  placing  Alfred's 
younger  brother  on  the  throne,  to  become  at 
once  his  king,  his  son-in-law,  and  his  puppet. 

It  had  been  well,  perhaps,  for  England,  had 
Godwin's  power  over  Edward  been  even  more 
complete  than  it  actually  was.  The  "  Confessor  " 
was,  if  we  arc  to  believe  the  monks,  unmixed 
virtue  anJ  piety,  meekness  and  magnanimity;  a 
model  ruler  of  men.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that 
(according  to  William  of  Malmesbury)  the  hap- 
piness of  his  times  (famed  as  he  was  both  for 
miracles  and  the  spirit  of  prophecy)  was  revealed 
in  a  dream  to  Brithwin,  bishop  of  Wilton,  who 
made  it  public ;  for,  meditating  in  King  Canute's 
time  on  the  near  extinction  of  the  royal  race  of 
the  English,  he  was  rapt  up  on  high,  and  saw 
St.  Peter  consecrating  Edward  King.  "  His  chaste 
life  also  was  pointed  out,  and  the  exact  period 
of  his  reign  (twenty-four  years)  determined ;  and 


Of  the  Fens  n 

when  he  inquired  about  his  posterity,  it  was  an- 
swered, '  The  kingdom  of  the  English  belongs  to 
God.  After  Edward,  He  will  provide  a  king 
according  to  His  pleasure.' "  But  the  conduct 
which  earned  him  the  title  of  Confessor  was  the 
direct  cause  of  the  Norman  Conquest  and  the 
ruin  of  his  people ;  while  those  who  will  look  at 
facts  will  see  in  the  holy  king's  character  little 
but  what  is  pitiable,  and  in  his  reign  little  but 

what  is  tragical. 

Civil  wars,  invasions,  outlawry  of  Godwin  and 
his  sons  by  the  Danish  and  French  parties ;  then 
of  Alfgar,  Leofric's  son,  by  the  Saxon  party ;  the 
outlaws  on  either  side  attacking  and  plundering 
the  English  shores  by  the  help  of  Norsemen, 
Welshmen,  Irish  and  Danes  —  any  mercenaries 
who  could  be  got  together ;  and  then  —  "  In  the 
same  year  Bishop  Aldred  consecrated  the  minis- 
ter at  Gloucester  to  the  glory  of  God  and  of 
St.  Peter,  and  then  went  to  Jerusalem  with  such 
splendour  as  no  man  had  displayed  before  him ;  " 
and  so  forth.  The  sum  and  substance  of  what 
was  done  in  those  "  happy  times "  may  be  well 
described  in  the  words  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  chron- 
icler for  the  year  1058.  "This  year  Alfgar  the 
earl  was  banished :  but  he  came  in  again  with 
violence,  through  aid  of  Griffin  (the  king  of  North 
Wales,  his  brother-in-law).  And  this  year  came 
a  fleet  from  Norway.  It  is  tedious  to  tell  how 

these  matters  went." These  were  the  normal 

phenomena  of  a  reign  which  seemed,  to  the  eyes 
of  chroniclers,  a  holy  and  a  happy  one ;  because 
the  king  refused,  whether  from  spite  or  supersti- 
tion, to  leave  an  heir  to  the  house  of  Cerdic,  and 
spent  his  time  between  prayer,  hunting,  the  seeing 


12  Hereward  the  Wake 

of  fancied  visions,  the  uttering  of  fancied  prophe- 
cies, and  the  performance  of  fancied  miracles. 

But  there  were  excuses  for  him.  An  Englishman 
only  in  name,  a  Norman,  not  only  by  his  mother's 
descent  (she  was  aunt  of  William  the  Conqueror), 
but  by  his  early  education  on  the  Continent,  he 
loved  the  Norman  better  than  the  Englishman ; 
Norman  knights  and  clerks  filled  his  court,  and 
often  the  high  dignities  of  his  provinces,  and  re- 
turned as  often  as  they  w  r  expelled ;  the  Norman- 
French  language  became  fashionable;  Norman 
customs  and  manners  the  signs  of  civilization ;  and 
thus  all  was  preparing  steadily  for  the  great  catas- 
trophe, by  which,  within  a  year  of  Edward's  death, 
the  Norman  became  master  of  the  land. 

We  have  gained,  doubtless,  by  that  calamity.  By 
it  England  and  Scotland,  and  in  due  time  Ireland, 
became  integral  parts  of  the  comity  of  Christendom, 
and  partakers  of  that  classic  civilization  and  learn- 
ing, the  fount  whereof,  for  good  or  for  evil,  was 
Rome  and  the  Pope  of  Rome :  but  the  method  was 
at  least  wicked ;  the  actors  in  it  tyrannous,  brutal, 
treacherous,  hypocritical :  and  to  say  that  so  it  must 
have  been,  that  by  no  other  method  could  the 
result  (or  some  far  better  result)  have  been  ob- 
tained, —  is  it  not  to  say  that  men's  crimes  are  not 
merely  overruled  by,  but  necessary  to  the  gracious 
designs  of  Providence  ;  and  that  —  to  speak  plainly 
—  the  Deity  has  made  this  world  so  ill,  that  He  is 
forced  at  times  to  do  ill  that  good  may  come  ? 

Against  the  new  tyranny  the  free  men  of  the 
Danelagh  and  of  Northumbria  rose.  If  Edward 
the  descendant  of  Cerdic  had  been  little  to  them, 
William  the  descendant  of  Rollo  was  still  less. 
That  French-speaking  knights  should  expel  them 


Of  the  Fens  13 

from  their  homes,  French-chanting  monks  from 
their  convents,  because  Edward  had  promised  the 
crown  of  England  to  William,  his  foreign  cousin,  or 
because  Harold  Godwinsson  of  Wessex  had  sworn  on 
the  relics  of  all  the  saints  to  be  William's  man,  was 
contrary  to  their  common-sense  of  right  and  reason. 

So  they  rose,  and  fought ;  too  late,  it  may  be,  and 
without  unity  or  purpose ;  and  they  were  worsted 
by  an  enemy  who  had  both  unity  and  purpose; 
whom  superstition,  greed,  and  feudal  discipline  kept 
together,  at  least  in  England,  in  one  compact  body 
of  unscrupulous  and  terrible  confederates. 

And  theirs  was  a  land  worth  fighting  for  —  a  good 
land  and  large :  from  Humbermouth  inland  to  the 
Trent  and  merry  Sherwood,  across  to  Chester  and 
the  Dee,  round  by  Leicester  and  the  five  burghs  of 
the  Danes;  eastward  again  to  Huntingdon  and 
Cambridge  (then  a  poor  village  on  the  site  of  an 
old  Roman  town) ;  and  then  northward  again  into 
the  wide  fens,  the  land  of  the  Girvii,  where  the 
great  central  plateau  of  England  slides  into  the 
sea,  to  form,  from  the  rain  and  river  washings  of 
eight  shires,  lowlands  of  a  fertility  inexhaustible, 
because  ever-growing  to  this  day. 

Into  those  fens,  as  into  a  natural  fortress,  the 
Anglo-Danish  noblemen  crowded  down  instinc- 
tively from  the  inland,  to  make  their  last  stand 
against  the  French.  Children  of  the  old  Vikings, 
or  "  Creekers,"  they  took,  in  their  great  need,  to 
the  seaward  and  the  estuaries,  as  other  conquered 
races  take  to  the  mountains,  and  died  like  their 
forefathers,  within  scent  of  the  salt  sea  from  whence 
they  came. 

They  have  a  beauty  of  their  own,  these  great 
fens,  even  now  when  they  are  dyked  and  drained, 


14  Hereward  the  Wake 

tilled  and  fenced  —  a  beauty  as  of  the  sea,  of 
boundless  expanse  and  freedom.  Much  more  had 
they  that  beauty  eight  hundred  years  ago,  when 
they  were  still,  for  the  most  part,  as  God  had  made 
them,  or  rather  was  making  them  even  then.  The 
low  rolling  uplands  were  clothed  in  primeval 
forest;  oak  and  ash,  beech  and  elm,  with  here  and 
there,  perhaps,  a  group  of  ancient  pines,  ragged 
and  decayed,  and  fast  dying  out  in  England  even 
then,  though  lingering  still  in  the  forests  of  the 
Scotch  Highlands. 

Between  the  forests  were  open  wolds,  dotted  with 
white  sheep  and  golden  gorse ;  rolling  plains  of  rich 
though  ragged  turf,  whether  cleared  by  the  hand 
of  man  or  by  the  wild  fires  which  often  swept  over 
the  hills.  And  between  the  wood  and  the  wold 
stood  many  a  Danish  "  town,"  with  its  clusters  of 
low  straggling  buildings  round  the  holder's  house, 
of  stone  or  mud  below,  and  of  wood  above;  its 
high  dykes  round  tiny  fields ;  its  flocks  of  sheep 
ranging  on  the  wold;  its  herds  of  swine  in  the 
forest;  and  below,  a  more  precious  possession 
still  —  its  herds  of  mares  and  colts,  which  fed  with 
the  cattle  and  the  geese  in  the  rich  grass-fen. 

For  always,  from  the  foot  of  the  wolds,  the  green 
flat  stretched  away,  illimitable,  to  an  horizon  where, 
from  the  roundness  of  the  earth,  the  distant  trees 
and  islands  were  hulled  down  like  ships  at  sea. 
The  firm  horse-fen  lay,  bright  green,  along  the 
foot  of  the  wold ;  beyond  it,  the  browner  peat,  or 
deep  fen ;  and  among  that,  dark  velvet  alder  beds, 
long  lines  of  reed-rond,  emerald  in  spring,  and 
golden  under  the  autumn  sun ;  shining  "  eas,"  or 
river-reaches ;  broad  meres  dotted  with  a  million 
fowl,  while  the  cattle  waded  along  their  edges  after 


Of  the  Fens  15 

the  rich  sedge-grass,  or  wallowed  in  the  mire 
through  the  hot  summer's  day.  Here  and  there, 
too,  upon  the  far  horizon,  rose  a  tall  line  of  ashen 
trees,  marking  some  island  of  firm  rich  soil.  In 
some  of  them,  as  at  Ramsey  and  Crowland,  the 
huge  ashes  had  disappeared  before  the  axes  of  the 
monks;  and  a  minster  tower  rose  over  the  fen, 
amid  orchards,  gardens,  cornfields,  pastures,  with 
here  and  there  a  tree  left  standing  for  shade. 
"  Painted  with  flowers  in  the  spring,"  with  "pleasant 
shores  embosomed  in  still  lakes,"  as  the  monk- 
chronicler  of  Ramsey  has  it,  those  islands  seemed 
to  such  as  the  monk  terrestrial  paradises. 

Overhead  the  arch  of  heaven  spread  more  ample 
than  elsewhere,  as  over  the  open  sea ;  and  that  vast- 
ness  gave,  and  still  gives,  such  cloudlands,  such 
sunrises,  such  sunsets,  as  can  be  seen  nowhere  else 
within  these  isles.  They  might  well  have  been  star 
worshippers,  those  Girvii,  had  their  sky  been  as 
clear  as  that  of  the  East:  but  they  were  like  to 
have  worshipped  the  clouds  rather  than  the  stars, 
according  to  the  too  universal  law,  that  mankind 
worship  the  powers  which  do  them  harm,  rather 
than  the  powers  which  do  them  good.  Their 
priestly  teachers,  too,  had  darkened  still  further 
their  notion  of  the  world  around,  as  accursed  by 
sin,  and  swarming  with  evil  sp  rits.  The  gods  and 
fairies  of  their  old  mythology  had  been  trans- 
formed by  the  Church  into  fiends,  alluring  or 
loathsome,  but  all  alike  destructive  to  man,  against 
whom  the  soldier  of  God,  the  celibate  monk, 
fought  day  and  night  with  relics,  Agnus  Dei,  and 
sign  of  Holy  Cross. 

And  therefore  the  Danelagh  men,  who  feared 
not  mortal  sword  or  axe,  feared  witches,  ghosts, 


1 6  Hereward  the  Wake 

pucks,  wills-o'-the-wisp,  werwolves,  spirits  of  the 
wells  and  of  the  trees,  and  all  dark,  capricious",  and 
harmful  beings  whom  their  fancy  conjured  up  out 
of  the  wild,  wet,  and  unwholesome  marshes,  or  the 
dark  wolf-haunted  woods.  For  that  fair  land, 
like  all  things  on  earth,  had  its  darker  aspect. 
The  foul  exhalations  of  autumn  called  up  fever 
and  ague,  crippling  and  enervating,  and  tempting, 
almost  compelling,  to  that  wild  and  desperate 
drinking  which  was  the  Scandinavian's  special  sin. 
Dark  and  sad  were  those  short  autumn  days,  when 
all  the  distances  were  shut  off,  and  the  air  choked 
with  foul  brown  fog  and  drenching  rains  from  off 
the  eastern  sea;  and  pleasant  the  bursting  forth 
of  the  keen  northeast  wind,  with  all  its  whirling 
snow-storms.  For  though  it  sent  men  hurrying 
out  into  the  storm,  to  drive  the  cattle  in  from  the 
fen,  and  lift  the  sheep  out  of  the  snow-wreaths, 
and  now  and  then  never  to  return,  lost  in  mist  and 
mire,  in  ice  and  snow ;  —  yet  all  knew  that  after 
the  snow  would  come  the  keen  frost  and  bright  sun 
and  cloudless  blue  sky,  and  the  fenman's  yearly 
holiday,  when,  work  being  impossible,  all  gave 
themselves  up  to  play,  and  swarmed  upon  the  ice 
on  skates  and  sledges,  to  run  races,  township 
against  township,  or  visit  old  friends  full  forty  miles 
away;  and  met  everywhere  faces  as  bright  and 
ruddy  as  their  own,  cheered  by  the  keen  wine  of 
that  dry  and  bracing  frost. 

Such  was  the  Fenland ;  hard,  yet  cheerful ;  rear- 
ing a  race  of  hard  and  cheerful  men ;  showing  their 
power  in  old  times  in  valiant  fighting,  and  for  many 
a  century  since  in  that  valiant  industry  which  has 
drained  and  embanked  the  land  of  the  Girvii,  till  it 
has  become  a  very  Garden  of  the  Lord.  And  the 


Of  the  Fens  17 

Highlander  who  may  look  from  the  promontory  of 
Peterborough,  the  "  golden  borough  "  of  old  time ; 
or  from  that  Witham  on  the  Hill,  which  once  was 
a  farm  of  Hereward  the  Wake's ;  or  from  the 
tower  of  Crowland,  while  he  and  Torfrida  sleep  in 
the  ruined  nave  beneath;  or  from  the  heights  of 
that  Isle  of  Ely  which  was  so  long  the  camp  of 
refuge  for  English  freedom ;  over  the  labyrinth 
of  dykes  and  lodes,  the  squares  of  rich  corn  and 
verdure,  —  will  confess  that  the  lowlands,  as  well 
as  the  highlands,  can  at  times  breed  gallant  men. 

Most  gallant  of  them  all,  and  their  leader  in  the 
fatal  struggle  against  William,  was  Hereward  the 
Wake,  Lord  of  Bourne,  and  ancestor  of  that  family 
of  Wake,  the  arms  of  whom  appear  in  front  of  this 
book.  These,  of  course,  are  much  later  than  the 
time  of  Hereward.  Not  so,  probably,  the  badge 
of  the  "  Wake  Knot,"  in  which  (according  to  tradi- 
tion) two  monks'  girdles  are  worked  into  the  form 
of  the  letter  W.  It  and  the  motto  "Vigila  et  ora," 
may  well  have  been  used  by  Hereward  himself.  I 
owe  them  (as  I  do  numberless  details  and  correc- 
tions) to  the  exceeding  courtesy  of  that  excellent 
antiquary,  the  Rev.  E.  Trollope,  of  Leasingham, 
in  those  parts. 

Hereward's  pedigree  is  a  matter  of  no  import- 
ance, save  to  a  few  antiquaries,  and  possibly  to  his 
descendants,  the  ancient  and  honorable  house  of 
the  Wakes.  But  as  I  have,  in  this  story,  followed 
facts  as  strictly  as  I  could,  altering  none  which  I 
found,  and  inventing  little  more  than  was  needed 
to  give  the  story  coherence,  or  to  illustrate  the 
manners  of  the  time,  I  owe  it  to  myself  to  give  my 
reason  for  believing  Hereward  to  have  been  the  son 

Vol.  12— B 


1 8  Hereward  the  Wake 

of  Earl  Leofric  and  Godiva,  a  belief  in  which  I  am 
supported,  as  far  as  I  know,  only  by  Sir  Henry 
Ellis  (Introduction  to  Domesday)  and  by  Mr. 
Thomas  Wright.  The  reasons  against  my  belief 
(well  known  to  antiquaries)  are  these  —  Richard 
of  Ely  calls  him  simply  the  son  of  Leofric,  Lord  of 
Brunne,  and  of  JEdiva ;  and  his  MS.  is  by  far  the 
most  important  document  relating  to  Hereward. 
But  he  says  that  the  older  MSS.  which  he  con- 
sulted were  so  ruined  by  damp,  and  torn,  that 
"  vix  ex  eis  principium  a  genitoribus  ejus  incep- 
tum,  et  pauca  interim  expressimus,  et  nomen ;  " 
in  fact,  that  he  had  much  difficulty  in  making  out 
Hereward's  pedigree.  He  says,  moreover,  as  to 
Leofric  the  Mass  Priest's  Anglo-saxon  MSS.,  "  In 
quibus  (Anglicae  literae)  vero  non  licet  non  satis 
periti  aut  potius  exarare  deleta  incognitarum  liter- 
arum,"  —  which  passage  (whatever  may  have  been 
the  word  now  wanting  to  complete  it)  certainly  con- 
fesses that  he  was  but  a  poor  adept  at  deciphering 
Anglo-Saxon  MSS.  He  need  hardly  have  con- 
fessed as  much;  for  the  misspellings  of  English 
names  in  his  work  are  more  gross  than  even  those 
in  Domesday;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that 
among  the  rest  he  may  have  rendered  Godiva,  or 
its  English  equivalent,  by  JEdiva. 

That  he  should  have  been  ignorant  that  Leofric 
was  not  merely  Lord  of  Bourne,  but  Earl  of  Mercia, 
will  not  seem  surprising  to  those  who  know  how 
utterly  the  English  nobility  were  trampled  into  the 
mud.  To  the  Normans  they  were  barbarians 
without  a  name  or  a  race.  They  were  dead  and 
gone,  too;  and  who  cared  for  the  pedigree  of  a 
dead  man  whose  lands  had  passed  to  another? 
Thus  of  Marlesweyn  nothing  is  known.  Of  Edric 


Of  the  Fens  19 

the  Wild,  a  great  chieftain  in  his  day,  all  but 
nothing.  Gospatric's  pedigree  has  been  saved,  in 
part,  by  his  relationship  to  Royalty,  both  Scotch 
and  English;  and  Siward  Digre's,  like  that  of 
Gyda,  his  kinswoman,  by  their  relationship  with 
the  kings  of  Denmark,  and  the  Fairy  Bear.  But 
Gyda's  husband,  the  great  Earl  Godwin,  had  be- 
come within  three  generations  a  "herdsman's  son," 
and  even  Mr.  Freeman's  research  and  judgment 
cannot  decide  his  true  pedigree.  As  for  Leofric, 
we  know  that  he  was  son  (according  to  Florence 
of  Worcester)  of  Leofwin  the  Alderman,  and  had 
two  brothers,  one  Norman,  killed  by  Canute  with 
Edric  Streon  1017  (according  to  Ingulf);  the 
other  Edric  Edwin,  killed  by  the  Welsh  1039. 
But  we  know  no  more. 

That  Ingulf  should  make  him  die  A.  D.  1057,  is 
not  strange,  in  spite  of  his  many  mistakes ;  for  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  gives  the  same  date.  But 
the  monk,  who  probably  a  century  or  more  after 
Ingulf,  interpolated  from  Richard  of  Ely  the  pas- 
sage beginning,  "  At  this  time  a  nobleman,  the 
Lord  of  Bourne,  etc.,  sub  anno  1062,  may  well 
have  been  ignorant  that  Leofric,  Lord  of  Bourne, 
was  also  Earl  of  Mercia.  But  what  need  to  argue 
over  any  statement  of  the  so-called  Ingulf,  or 
rather  "  Ingulfic  Cycle  "  ?  I  shall  only  add  that 
the  passage  sub  anno  1066,  beginning  "  Herward, 
who  has  been  previously  mentioned,"  seems  to  be 
by  again  a  different  hand. 

Meanwhile  the  "  Excerptum  de  Familia  Here- 
wardi,"  calls  him  plainly  the  son  of  Leofric,  Earl 
of  Mercia,  and  the  Lady  Godiva;  giving  to  her 
the  same  genealogy  as  is  given  by  Richard  of  Ely 
to  ^Ediva. 


2O  Hereward  the  Wake 

This  account  of  Hereward's  family  is  taken  from 
a  document  of  no  greater  antiquity  than  the 
fifteenth  century,  a  genealogical  roll  of  the  Lords 
of  Bourne  and  Deeping,  who  traced  their  descent 
and  title  to  the  lands  from  Hereward's  daughter: 
but  it  was  no  doubt  taken  either  from  previously 
existing  records,  or  from  the  old  tradition  of  the 
family ;  and,  with  no  authority  for  contradicting  it, 
and  considering  its  general  agreement  with  the 
other  evidence,  it  is  plain  that  Leofric  of  Bourne 
was  generally  understood  to  be  the  great  Earl  of 
Mercia  of  that  name. 

But  the  strongest  evidence  of  the  identity  be- 
tween Leofric  of  Bourne,  and  Leofric,  Earl  of 
Mercia,  is  to  be  found  in  Domesday  Book. 

The  Lord  of  Bourne  at  the  time  of  the  Con- 
quest, as  is  proved  by  the  "  Clamores  de  Kest- 
even,"  was  Morcar,  Leofric  of  Mercia's  grandson. 
This  one  fact  is  all  but  conclusive,  unless  we  sup- 
pose that  Leofric  of  Bourne  had  been  dispossessed 
of  his  "  dominium  "  by  Morcar,  or  by  Earl  Algar 
his  father,  or,  again,  by  Earl  Leofric  his  grand- 
father. But  such  an  hypothesis  accords  ill  with 
the  amity  between  Morcar  and  Hereward ;  and  it 
is  all  but  impossible  that,  if  Hereward's  family  was 
then  dispossessed,  the  fact  should  not  appear  in 
any  of  his  biographies. 

But  Domesday  Book  gives  no  hint  of  any  large 
landholders  in  or  near  Bourne,  save  Morcar,  Lord 
thereof,  whose  name  still  lingers  in  the  "  Morkery 
Woods,"  a  few  miles  off;  Edwin  his  brother;  and 
Algar  his  father,  a  son  of  Earl  Leofric  and  Godiva. 
The  famous  Godiva,  also,  was  probably  a  Lincoln- 
shire woman,  though  the  manors  which  she  held 
in  her  widowhood  were  principally  in  Shropshire. 


Of  the  Fens  21 

The  domains  of  her  ancestor,  "  The  magnificent 
Earl  Oslac,"  who  lived  in  the  days  of  King  Edgar, 
were  Deira,  i.  e.  Danish  Northumbria,  from  Humber 
to  Tees;  and  he  may  have  sprung  from  (as  his 
name  hints)  the  ancient  kings  of  Deira.  But 
charters  (as  far  as  we  can  trust  them)  connect  him 
both  with  Peterborough  and  Crowland;  and  his 
descendant  was  Thorold  of  Bukenhale  near  Crow- 
land,  sheriff  of  Lincoln,  from  whom  the  ancient 
Thorolds  of  those  parts  claim  descent;  and  this 
Thorold  appears,  in  a  charter  of  1061,  attested  by 
Leofric  and  Godiva,  as  giving  the  cell  of  Spalding 
to  Crowland.  The  same  charter  describes  the 
manor  of  Spalding  as  belonging  to  Earl  Leofric. 
His  son,  Algar,  whose  name  remains  in  Algarkirk,1 

1  The  first  Earl  "Algar,"  who  signs  a  charter  in  the  days  of 
Beorrhed,  king  of  the  Mercians,  and  who  does  doughty  deeds 
about  A.  D.  870,  is,  to  me,  as  mythical  as  the  first  "  Morcard, 
Lord  of  Brune,"  who  accompanies  him  ;  the  first  Thorold  of 
Bukenhale,  who  gave  that  place  to  Crowland  about  A.  D.  806, 
and  the  first  Leofric,  or  "  Levric,"  Earl  of  Leicester  (t.  e.  Mercia), 
who  helps  to  found  in  Crowland,  A. D.  716,  a  "monastery  of 
black  Monks."  The  monks  of  Crowland  were,  perhaps,  trying 
to  work  on  Hugh  Evermue,  Hereward's  son-in-law,  or  Richard 
of  Rulos,  his  grandson-in-law,  as  they  were  trying  to  work  on 
the  Norman  kings,  when  they  invented  these  charters  of  the 
eighth  and  ninth  centuries,  with  names  of  Saxon  kings,  and 
nobles  of  Leofric  and  Godiva's  house ;  or,  again,  the  land  being 
notoriously  given  to  Crowland  by  men  of  certain  names,  who 
were  then  of  no  authority  as  rebels  and  dispossessed,  it  was 
necessary  to  invent  men  of  like  names,  who  were  safely  en- 
trenched behind  Saxon  antiquity  with  the  ancestors  of  Edward 
the  Confessor.  But  in  their  clumsiness  they  seem  to  have 
mingled  with  them  in  the  said  charters  and  their  mythic  battles 
against  the  Danes,  purely  Danish  names,  such  as  Siward, 
Asketyl,  Azer,  Harding,  Grimketyl,  Wulfketyl,  etc.,  which 
surely  prove  the  fraud.  Meanwhile,  the  very  names  of  Levric, 
Algar,  Morcar,  Thorold,  genuine  or  not,  seem  to  prove  that 
the  houses  of  Leofric  and  Godiva  were  ancient  rulers  in  these 
parts,  whose  phantoms  had  to  be  evoked  when  needed. 


22  Hereward  the  Wake 

appears  as  a  benefactor  to  Crowland.  And,  in 
fine,  the  great  folk  of  Bourne,  as  well  as  Spalding, 
were  without  doubt  the  family  of  Leofric,  Earl  of 
Mercia  and  Chester,  and  of  the  Lady  Godiva ;  the 
parents,  as  I  conceive,  of  Hereward.  He  would 
thus,  on  the  death  of  Morcar,  son  of  his  elder 
brother  Algar,  take  possession  by  natural  right  of 
the  Lordship  of  Bourne,  and  keep  up  a  special 
enmity  against  Ivo  Taillebois,  who  had  taken 
Spalding  from  his  patrimony. 

Lastly,  it  is  difficult  to  me  to  suppose  that  Here- 
ward would  have  been  allowed  to  take  the  undis- 
puted command  of  a  rebellion  so  aristocratic  as 
that  of  the  Fens,  over  the  heads  of  three  earls, 
Morcar  among  them,  had  he  not  possessed  some 
such  natural  right  of  birth  as  an  earl's  son,  and, 
probably,  like  most  great  English  Earls'  families, 
of  ancient  royal,  and  therefore  God-descended, 
blood. 

On  the  supposition,  too,  that  he  was  the  last 
remaining  heir  of  the  Earls  of  Mercia,  may  be 
explained  William's  strong  desire  to  spare  his  life 
and  receive  his  homage ;  as  an  atonement  for  his 
conduct  to  Edwin  and  Morcar,  and  a  last  effort  to 
attach  to  himself  the  ancient  English  nobility. 
But  of  this  enough,  and  more  than  enough ;  and 
so  to  my  story. 


CHAPTER  I 

HOW    HEREWARD     WAS    OUTLAWED,    AND    WENT 
NORTH    TO    SEEK    HIS   FORTUNES 

IN  Kesteven  of  Lincolnshire,  between  the  forest 
and  the  fen,  lies  the  good  market-town  of 
Bourne,  the  birthplace,  according  to  all  tradition, 
of  two  great  Englishmen ;  of  Cecil  Lord  Burleigh, 
justly  remembered  throughout  all  time,  and  of 
Hereward  the  Wake,  not  unjustly,  perhaps,  long 
forgotten.  Two  long  streets  meet  opposite  the 
house  where  Burleigh  was  born,  one  from  Spal- 
ding  and  the  eastern  fens,  the  other  from  the  forest, 
and  the  line  of  the  old  Roman  road  on  the  north. 
From  thence  the  Watergang  Street  leads,  by  the 
side  of  clear  running  streams,  to  the  old  Priory 
church,  and  the  great  labyrinth  of  grass-grown 
banks,  which  was  once  the  castle  of  the  Wakes. 
Originally,  it  may  be,  those  earthworks  were  a 
Roman  camp,  guarding  the  King  Street,  or  Roman 
road,  which  splits  off  from  the  Ermine  Street 
near  Castor,  and  runs  due  north  through  Bourne 
to  Sleaford.  They  may  have  guarded,  too,  the 
Car-dyke,  or  great  Catchwater  drain,  which  runs 
from  Peterborough  northward  into  the  heart  of 
Lincolnshire,  a  still-enduring  monument  of  Roman 
genius.  Their  site,  not  on  one  of  the  hills  behind, 
but  on  the  dead  flat  meadow,  was  determined 


24  Hereward  the  Wake 

doubtless  by  the  noble  fountain,  bourn,  or  brunne, 
which  rises  among  the  earthworks,  and  gives  its 
name  to  the  whole  town.  In  the  flat  meadow 
bubbles  up  still  the  great  pool  of  limestone  water, 
crystal  clear,  suddenly  and  at  once;  and  runs 
away,  winter  and  summer,  a  stream  large  enough 
to  turn  many  a  mill,  and  spread  perpetual  verdure 
through  the  fat  champaign  lands. 

The  fountain  was,  doubtless,  in  the  middle  age, 
miraculous  and  haunted :  perhaps  in  heathen  times, 
divine  and  consecrate.  Even  till  a  late  date,  the 
millers  of  Bourne  paid  water-dues  to  those  of  a 
village  some  miles  away:  on  the  strength  of  the 
undoubted  fact,  that  a  duck  put  into  Bourne  Pool 
would  pass  underground  into  the  millhead  of  the 
said  village.  Doubtless  it  was  a  holy  well,  such 
as  were  common  in  the  eastern  counties,  as  they 
are  still  in  Ireland ;  a  well  where  rags,  flowers,  and 
other  gew-gaws  might  have  been  seen  hanging, 
offerings  to  the  spirit  of  the  well,  whether  one  of 
those  "nickers,"  "develen,"  or  " luther-gostes," 
which  St.  Botulf  met  when  he  founded  Boston 
near  by,  or  one  of  those  "  fair  ladies,"  "  elves," 
or  water-nymphs,  who,  exorcised  from  the  North, 
still  linger  in  the  fountains  of  modern  Greece. 
Exorcised,  certainly,  the  fairy  of  Bourne  was  at  an 
early  date;  for  before  the  Conquest  the  Peter- 
borough monks  had  founded  a  cell  outside  the 
castle  ditch,  and,  calling  in  the  aid  of  the  Chief 
of  the  Apostles  against  those  spirits  of  darkness 
who  peopled,  innumerable,  earth,  air,  water,  and 
fen,  had  rechristened  it  as  "  Peterspool,"  which 
name  it  bears  unto  this  day. 

Military  skill  has,  evidently,  utilized  the  waters 
of  the  Peterspool  from  the  earliest  times.  They 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     25 

filled,  at  some  remote  period,  the  dykes  at  a  great 
earthwork  to  the  north,  which  has  been  over- 
looked by  antiquaries,  because  it  did  not  (seem- 
ingly) form  part  of  the  enceinte  of  the  mediaeval 
castle  of  the  Wakes.  It  still  fills  the  dykes  of  that 
castle,  whereof  nothing  remains  now  save  banks  of 
turf,  and  one  great  artificial  barrow,  on  which 
stood  the  keep,  even  in  Leland's  time,  it  would 
seem,  somewhat  dilapidate.  "There  appear,"  he 
says,  "  grete  ditches,  and  the  dungeon  hill  of  an 
ancient  castle  agayn  the  west  end  of  the  Priory.  .  .  . 
It  longgid  to  the  Lord  Wake ;  and  much  service 
of  the  Wake  fee  is  done  to  this  Castelle,  and  every 
feodary  knoweth  his  station  and  place  of  service." 
Of  the  stonework  nothing  now  remains.  The 
square  dungeon,  "  a  fayre  and  prettie  building, 
with  iv.  square  towers  .  .  .  hall,  chambers,  all 
manner  of  houses  and  offices  for  the  lord  and  his 
train,"  l  and  so  forth,  is  utterly  gone.  The  gate- 
house, thirty  feet  high,  with  its  circular  Saxon 
(probably  Norman)  arch,  has  been  pulled  down 
by  the  Lords  of  Burleigh,  to  build  a  farm-house; 
the  fair  park  is  divided  into  fair  meadows;  and  a 
large  part  of  the  town  of  Bourne  is,  probably,  built 
of  the  materials  of  the  Wakes'  castle,  and  the 
Priory,  which  arose  under  its  protection.  Those 
Priory  lands  passed  into  the  hands  of  Trollopes 
and  Pochins,  as  did  the  lands  of  the  castle  into 
those  of  the  Cecils ;  and  of  that  fee  of  the  Wakes, 
all,  as  far  as  I  know,  is  lost,  fors  I'honneur,  which 
shone  out  of  late  in  that  hero  of  "  Arrah,"  who 
proved,  by  his  valor,  pertinacity,  and  shiftfulness, 
not  unworthy  of  his  great  ancestor  Hereward. 
Verily  the  good  old  blood  of  England  is  not  yet 
worn  out. 

1  Peak's  account  of  the  towns  in  Kesteven. 


26  Hereward  the  Wake 

A  pleasant  place,  and  a  rich,  is  Bourne  now; 
and  a  pleasant  place  and  rich  must  it  have  been 
in  the  old  Anglo-Danish  times,  when  the  hall  of 
Leofric,  the  great  Earl  of  Mercia,  stood  where  the 
Wakes'  feudal  castle  stood  in  after  years.  To  the 
south  and  west  stretched,  as  now,  the  illimitable 
flat  of  fen,  with  the  spires  of  Crowland  gleaming 
bright  between  high  trees  upon  the  southern  hori- 
zon :  and  to  the  north,  from  the  very  edge  of  the 
town  fields  rose  the  great  Bruneswald,  the  forest 
of  oak,  and  ash,  and  elm,  which  still  covers  many 
miles  of  Lincolnshire,  as  Bourne  Wood,  Grims- 
thorpe  Park,  and  parks  and  woodlands  without 
number.  To  the  southwest  it  joined  the  great 
forest  of  Rockingham,  in  Northamptonshire.  To 
the  west,  it  all  but  marched  with  Charnwood  For- 
est in  Leicestershire,  and  to  the  northwest,  with 
the  great  Sherwood,  which  covered  Nottingham- 
shire, and  reached  over  the  borders  of  York- 
shire. Mighty  fowling  and  fishing  was  there  in 
the  fen  below,  and  mighty  hunting  on  the  weald 
above,  where  still  haunt,  in  Grimsthorpe  Park, 
the  primeval  red-deer,  descendants  of  those  who 
fell  by  Hereward's  bow,  ere  yet  the  first  Lovell 
had  built  his  castle  on  the  steep,  or  the  Cistercian 
monks  of  Fountains  had  found  out  the  deep-em- 
bowered Vale  of  God,  and  settled  themselves  in 
the  glen  beneath  the  castle  walls. 

It  is  of  those  earlier  days  that  this  story  tells; 
of  the  latter  half  of  the  eleventh  century,  and  the 
eve  of  the  Norman  Conquest,  when  Leofric  the 
Earl  had  the  dominion  in  forest  and  manorial 
rights,  in  wood,  and  town,  and  fen ;  and  beside 
him,  upon  the  rich  strip  of  champaign,  other  free 
Danish  holders,  whose  names  may  be  still  found  in 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed      27 

Domesday  Book,  held  small  estates;  and  owed, 
probably,  some  military  service  to  the  great  earl  at 
the  hall  within  the  Roman  earthwork. 

The  house  of  Bourne,  as  far  as  it  can  be  recon- 
structed by  imagination,  was  altogether  unlike  one 
of  the  tall  and  gloomy  Norman  castles  which,  in 
the  course  of  the  next  few  generations,  must  have 
taken  its  place.  It  was  much  more  like  a  house  in 
a  Chinese  painting :  an  irregular  group  of  low  build- 
ings, almost  all  of  one  story,  stone  below  and  timber 
above,  with  high-peaked  roofs  —  at  least  in  the 
more  Danish  country  —  affording  a  separate  room, 
or  rather  house,  for  each  different  need  of  the 
family.  Such  a  one  may  be  seen  in  the  illumina- 
tions of  the  century.  In  the  centre  of  the  building 
is  the  hall,  with  a  door  or  doors  opening  out  into 
the  court ;  and  sitting  thereat  at  the  top  of  a  flight 
of  steps,  the  lord  and  lady,  dealing  clothes  to  the 
naked  and  bread  to  the  hungry.  Behind  the  hall 
is  a  round  tower,  seemingly  the  strong  place  of  the 
whole  house.  It  must  have  stood  at  Bourne  upon 
the  dungeon  hill.  On  one  side  of  the  hall  is  a 
chapel ;  by  it  a  large  room  or  bower  for  the  ladies ; 
on  the  other  side  a  kitchen :  and  stuck  on  to  bower, 
kitchen,  and  every  other  principal  building,  lean-to 
after  lean-to,  the  uses  of  which  it  is  impossible  now 
to  discover.  The  house  had  grown  with  the  wants 
of  the  family  —  as  many  good  old  English  houses 
have  done  to  this  day.  Round  it  would  be  scattered 
barns  and  stables,  in  which  grooms  and  herdsmen 
slept  side  by  side  with  their  own  horses  and  cattle; 
beyond,  the  yard,  garth,  or  garden-fence,  high 
earth-banks  with  palisades  on  top,  while  the  waters 
of  the  Peterspool  wandered  around  outside  all. 
Such  was  most  probably  the  "  villa,"  "  ton,"  or 


28  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  town,"  of  Earl  Leofric,  the  Lord  of  Bourne ;  such 
too,  probably,  the  hall  at  Laughton-en-le-Morthem 
in  Yorkshire,  which  belonged  to  his  grandson 
Edwin,  and  therefore,  probably,  to  him.  Leofric's 
other  residence,  the  Castle  of  Warwick,  was  already, 
it  may  be,  a  building  of  a  more  solid  and  Norman 
type,  such  as  had  been  built  already,  here  and 
there,  for  Edward  the  Confessor's  French  courtiers, 
by  the  hands  of  "  Welisce  men,"  i.  e.  French-speak- 
ing foreigners.1 

Known,  I  presume,  to  all  is  Lady  Godiva,  mis- 
tress of  Bourne,  the  most  beautiful  as  well  as  the 
most  saintly  woman  of  her  day ;  who,  all  her  life, 
kept  at  her  own  expense  thirteen  poor  folk  wher- 
ever she  went ;  who,  throughout  Lent,  watched  in 
the  church  at  triple  matins,  namely,  one  for  the 
Trinity,  one  for  the  Cross,  and  one  for  St.  Mary; 
who  every  day  read  the  Psalter  through,  and  so 
persevered  in  good  and  holy  works  to  her  life's 
end,  the  devoted  friend  of  St.  Mary,  ever  a  virgin ; 
who  enriched  monasteries  without  number  —  Leo- 
minster,  Wenlock,  Chester,  St.  Mary's  Stow  by 
Lincoln,  Worcester,  Evesham ;  and  who,  above 
all,  founded  the  great  monastery  in  that  town  of 
Coventry,  which  has  made  her  name  immortal  for 
another  and  a  far  nobler  deed ;  and  enriched  it  so 
much,  that  no  monastery  in  England  possessed 
such  abundance  of  gold,  silver,  jewels,  and  precious 
stones,  besides  that  most  precious  jewel  of  all,  the 
arm  of  St.  Augustine,  which  not  Lady  Godiva,  but 
her  friend  Archbishop  Ethelnoth,  presented  to 

1  One  such  had  certainly  been  built  in  Herefordshire.  Lap- 
penberg  attributes  it,  with  great  probability,  to  Raoul,  or  Ralph 
the  Stnller,  nephew  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  a  near  relation 
of  Leofric. 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     29 

Coventry ;  having  bought  it  at  Pavia  for  a  hundred 
talents  of  silver  and  a  talent  of  gold.1 

Less  known,  save  to  students,  is  her  husband 
Leofric,  whose  bones  lie  by  those  of  Godiva  in 
that  same  minster  of  Coventry ;  how  "  his  counsel 
was  as  if  one  had  opened  the  Divine  oracles ;  " 
very  "  wise,"  says  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle, 
"  for  God  and  for  the  world,  which  was  a  blessing  to 
all  this  nation ;  "  the  greatest  man,  as  I  have  said, 
in  Edward  the  Confessor's  court,  save  his  still 
greater  rival,  Earl  Godwin. 

Less  known,  again,  are  the  children  of  that  illus- 
trious pair ;  Algar,  or  Alfgar,  Earl  of  Mercia  after 
his  father,  who  died  after  a  short  and  stormy  life, 
leaving  two  sons,  Edwin  and  Morcar,  the  fair  and 
hapless  young  earls,  always  spoken  of  together, 
as  if  they  had  been  twins ;  a  daughter,  Aldytha, 
or  Elfgiva  married  first  (according  to  some)  to 
Griffin,  King  of  North  Wales,  and  certainly  after- 
wards to  Harold,  King  of  England ;  and  another, 
Lucia  (as  the  Normans  at  least  called  her),  whose 
fate  was,  if  possible,  more  sad  than  that  of  her 
brothers. 

Their  second  son  was  Hereward,  whose  history 
this  tale  sets  forth ;  their  third  and  youngest,  a  boy 
whose  name  is  unknown. 

They  had,  probably,  another  daughter  beside ; 
married,  it  may  be,  to  some  son  of  Leofric's  stanch 
friend  old  Siward  Digre ;  and  the  mother,  may  be, 
of  the  two  young  Siwards,  the  "  white  "  and  the 
"  red,"  who  figure  in  chronicle  and  legend  as  the 
nephews  of  Hereward.  But  this  last  pedigree  is 
little  more  than  a  conjecture. 

Be  these  things  as  they  may,  Godiva  was  the 

1  William  of  Malmesbury. 


30  Hereward  the  Wake 

greatest  lady  in  England,  save  two :  Edith, 
Harold's  sister,  the  nominal  wife  of  Edward  the 
Confessor ;  and  Githa,  or  Gyda,  as  her  own  Danes 
called  her,  Harold's  mother,  niece  of  Canute  the 
Great.  Great  was  Godiva ;  and  might  have  been 
proud  enough,  had  she  been  inclined  to  that 
pleasant  sin.  But  always  (for  there  is  a  skeleton, 
they  say,  in  every  house)  she  carried  that  about 
her  which  might  well  keep  her  humble ;  namely, 
shame  at  the  misconduct  of  Hereward,  her  son. 

Now  on  a  day  —  about  the  year  1054  —  while 
Earl  Siward  was  helping  to  bring  Birnam  Wood  to 
Dunsinane,  to  avenge  his  murdered  brother-in-law, 
Lady  Godiva  sat,  not  at  her  hall-door,  dealing 
food  and  clothing  to  her  thirteen  poor  folk,  but  in 
her  bower,  with  her  youngest  son,  a  two-years' 
boy,  at  her  knee.  She  was  listening  with  a  face  of 
shame  and  horror  to  the  complaint  of  Herluin, 
Steward  of  Peterborough,  who  had  fallen  in  this 
afternoon  with  Hereward  and  his  crew  of  house- 
cretes. 

To  keep  a  following  of  stout  housecarles,  or 
men-at-arms,  was  the  pride  as  well  as  the  duty  of 
an  Anglo-Danish  Lord,  as  it  was,  till  lately,  of  a 
Scoto-Danish  Highland  Laird.  And  Hereward,  in 
imitation  of  his  father  and  his  elder  brother,  must 
needs  have  his  following  from  the  time  he  was  but 
fifteen  years  old.  All  the  unruly  youths  of  the 
neighborhood,  sons  of  free  "  Holders,"  who  owed 
some  sort  of  military  service  to  Earl  Leofric; 
Geri,  Hereward's  cousin ;  Winter,  whom  he  called 
his  brother-in-arms ;  the  Wulfrics,  the  Wulfards, 
the  Azers,  and  many  another  wild  blade,  had 
banded  themselves  round  a  young  nobleman  more 
unruly  than  themselves.  Their  names  were  al- 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed      3 1 

ready  a  terror  to  all  decent  folk,  at  wakes  and 
fairs,  alehouses  and  village  sports.  They  atoned, 
be  it  remembered,  for  their  early  sins,  by  making 
those  names  in  after  years  a  terror  to  the  invaders 
of  their  native  land :  but  as  yet  their  prowess  was 
limited  to  drunken  brawls  and  faction-fights;  to 
upsetting  old  women  at  their  work,  levying  black- 
mail from  quiet  chapmen  on  the  high-road,  or 
bringing  back  in  triumph,  sword  in  hand  and  club 
on  shoulder,  their  leader  Hereward  from  some 
duel  which  his  insolence  had  provoked. 

But  this  time,  if  the  story  of  the  steward  was  to 
be  believed,  Hereward  and  his  housecarles  had 
taken  an  ugly  stride  forward  toward  the  pit.  They 
had  met  him  riding  along,  intent  upon  his  psalter, 
home  towards  his  abbey  from  its  cell  at  Bourne  — 
"  Whereon  your  son,  most  gracious  lady,  bade  me 
stand,  saying  that  his  men  were  thirsty;  and  he 
had  no  money  to  buy  ale  withal,  and  none  so  likely 
to  help  him  thereto  as  a  fat  priest  —  for  so  he 
scandalously  termed  me,  who,  as  your  ladyship 
knows,  am  leaner  than  the  minster  bell-ropes,  with 
fasting  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  throughout  the 
year,  beside  the  vigils  of  the  saints,  and  the  former 
and  latter  Lents. 

"  But  when  he  saw  who  I  was.  as  if  inspired  by 
a  malignant  spirit,  he  shouted  out  my  name,  and 
bade  his  companions  throw  me  to  the  ground." 

"Throw  you  to  the  ground?"  shuddered  the 
Lady  Godiva. 

"  In  much  mire,  madam.  After  which  he  took 
my  palfrey,  saying  that  heaven's  gate  was  too  lowly 
for  men  on  horseback  to  get  in  thereat;  and  then 
my  marten's  fur  gloves  and  cape  which  your  gra- 
cious self  bestowed  on  me,  alleging  that  the  rules 


32  Hereward  the  Wake 

of  my  order  allowed  only  one  garment,  and  no 
furs  save  catskins  and  suchlike.  And  lastly  —  I 
tremble  while  I  relate,  thinking  not  of  the  loss  of 
my  poor  money,  but  the  loss  of  an  immortal  soul 
—  took  from  me  a  purse  with  sixteen  silver  pen- 
nies, which  I  had  collected  from  our  tenants  for 
the  use  of  the  monastery,  and  said  blasphemously 
that  I  and  mine  had  cheated  your  ladyship,  and 
therefore  him  your  son,  out  of  many  a  fat  manor 
ere  now ;  and  it  was  but  fair  that  he  should  tithe 
the  rents  thereof,  as  he  should  never  get  the  lands 
out  of  our  claws  again ;  with  more  of  the  like, 
which  I  blush  to  repeat  —  And  so  left  me  to  trudge 
hither  in  the  mire." 

"  Wretched  boy !  "  said  the  Lady  Godiva,  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands ;  "  and  more  wretched  I 
to  have  brought  such  a  son  into  the  world !  " 

The  monk  had  hardly  finished  his  doleful  story, 
when  there  was  a  pattering  of  heavy  feet,  a  noise 
of  men  shouting  and  laughing  outside,  and  a  voice 
above  all  calling  for  the  monk  by  name,  which 
made  that  good  man  crouch  behind  the  curtain  of 
Lady  Godiva's  bed.  The  next  moment  the  door 
of  the  bower  was  thrown  violently  open,  and  in 
swaggered  a  noble  lad  eighteen  years  old.  His 
face  was  of  extraordinary  beauty,  save  that  the 
lower  jaw  was  too  long  and  heavy,  and  that  his 
eyes  wore  a  strange  and  almost  sinister  expression, 
from  the  fact  that  the  one  of  them  was  gray  and 
the  other  blue.  He  was  short,  but  of  immense 
breadth  of  chest  and  strength  of  limb ;  while  his 
delicate  hands  and  feet  and  long  locks  of  golden 
hair  marked  him  of  most  noble,  and  even,  as  he 
really  was,  of  ancient  royal  race.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  gaudy  costume,  resembling  on  the  whole  that 


How   Hereward  was  Outlawed      33 

of  a  Highland  chieftain.  His  wrists  and  throat 
were  tattooed  in  blue  patterns ; l  and  he  carried 
sword  and  dagger,  a  gold  ring  round  his  neck,2 
and  gold  rings  on  his  wrists.  He  was  a  lad  to 
have  gladdened  the  eyes  of  any  mother :  but  there 
was  no  gladness  in  the  Lady  Godiva's  eyes  as  she 
received  him,  nor  had  there  been  for  many  a  year. 
She  looked  on  him  with  sternness,  with  all  but 
horror :  and  he,  his  face  flushed  with  wine,  which 
he  had  tossed  off  as  he  passed  through  the  hall, 
to*  steady  his  nerves  for  the  coming  storm,  looked 
at  her  with  smiling  defiance,  the  result  of  long 
estrangement  between  mother  and  son. 

"  Well,  my  lady,"  said  he,  ere  she  could  speak, 
"  I  heard  that  this  good  fellow  was  here ;  and  came 
home  as  fast  as  I  could,  to  see  that  he  told  you  as 
few  lies  as  possible." 

"He  has  told  me,"  said  she,  "that  you  have 
robbed  the  church  of  God." 

"Robbed  him,  it  may  be,  an  old  hoody  crow, 

1  Some  antiquaries  have  denied,  on  the  ground  of  insufficient 
evidence,  that  the  English  tattooed  themselves.  Others  have 
referred  to  some  such  custom  the  secret  marks  by  which  heroes 
are  so  often  recognized  in  old  romances,  as  well  as  those  by 
which  Edith  the  Swan-neck  is  said  to  have  recognized  Harold's 
body  on  the  field  of  Hastings.  Hereward  is,  likewise,  recognized 
by  "  signis  satis  exquisitis  in  corpore  designantia  vulnera  tenuis- 
simorum  cicatricum."  I  am  not  answerable  for  the  Latin ;  but 
as  I  understand  it,  it  refers  not  to  war-wounds  but  to  very  delicate 
marks.  Moreover,  William  of  Malmesbury,  sub  anno  1066,  seems 
sufficiently  explicit  when  he  says  that  the  English  "  adorned  their 
skins  with  punctured  designs." 

May  not  our  sailors'  fashion  of  tattooing  their  arms  and  chests 
with  strange  devices  be  a  remnant  of  this  very  fashion,  kept  up,  if 
not  originated  by,  the  desire  that  the  corpse  should  be  recognized 
after  death  ? 

8  Earl  Waltheof  appears  to  Ingulf  in  a  dream,  a  few  years 
after,  with  a  gold  tore  round  his  neck. 


34  Hereward  the  Wake 

against  whom  I  have  a  grudge  of  ten  years' 
standing." 

"  Wretched,  wretched  boy  !  What  wickedness 
next  ?  Know  you  not,  that  he  who  robs  the  Church 
robs  God  Himself?  " 

"  If  a  man  sin  against  another,"  put  in  the  monk 
from  behind  the  curtain,  "  the  judge  shall  judge 
him :  but  if  a  man  sin  against  the  Lord,  who  shall 
entreat  for  him?" 

"Who  indeed?"  cried  Lady  Godiva.  "Think, 
think,  hapless  boy,  what  it  is  to  go  about  the  world 
henceforth  with  the  wrath  of  Him  who  made  it 
abiding  on  you  —  cut  off  from  the  protection  of  all 
angels,  open  to  the  assaults  of  all  devils !  How 
will  your  life  be  safe  a  moment,  from  lightning, 
from  flood,  from  slipping  knife,  from  stumbling 
horse,  from  some  hidden  and  hideous  death?  If 
the  fen-fiends  lure  you  away  to  drown  you  in  the 
river,  or  the  wood-fiends  leap  on  you  in  the  thicket 
to  wring  your  neck,  of  what  use  to  you  then  the 
suffrages  of  the  saints,  or  the  sign  of  the  holy 
cross  ?  What  help,  what  hope,  for  you  —  for  me 
—  but  that  you  must  perish  foully,  and,  it  may  be, 
never  find  a  grave?" 

Lady  Godiva  —  as  the  constant  associate  of 
clerks  and  monks  —  spoke  after  an  artificial  and 
Latinized  fashion,  at  which  Hereward  was  not 
wont  to  laugh  and  jest:  but  as  he  believed,  no 
less  than  his  pious  mother,  in  innumerable  devils 
and  ghosts,  and  other  uncanny  creatures,  who 
would  surely  do  him  a  mischief  if  they  could, 
he  began  to  feel  somewhat  frightened ;  but  he 
answered  none  the  less  stoutly :  — 

"  As  for  devils,  and  such  like,  I  never  saw  one 
yet,  by  flood  or  field,  night  or  day.  And  if  one 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed      35 

comes,  I  must  just  copy  old  Baldwin  Bras-de-Fer 
of  Flanders,  and  see  whether  the  devil  or  I  can  hit 
hardest.  As  for  the  money  —  I  have  no  grudge 
against  St.  Peter ;  and  I  will  warrant  myself  to  rob 
some  one  else  of  sixteen  pennies  erelong,  and  pay 
the  saint  back  every  farthing." 

"  The  saint  takes  not  the  fruits  of  robbery.  He 
would  hurl  them  far  away,  by  might  divine,  were 
they  laid  upon  his  altar,"  quoth  the  steward. 

"  I  wonder  he  has  not  hurled  thee  away  long  ago, 
then,  with  thy  gifts  about  thine  ears ;  for  thou  hast 
brought  many  a  bag  of  grist  to  his  mill,  ere  now, 
that  was  as  foully  earned  as  aught  of  mine.  I  tell 
thee,  man,  if  thou  art  wise,  thou  wilt  hold  thy 
tongue,  and  let  me  and  St.  Peter  settle  this  quarrel 
between  us.  I  have  a  long  score  against  thee,  as 
thou  knowest,  which  a  gentle  battery  in  the  green- 
wood has  but  half  paid  off;  and  I  warn  thee  not 
to  make  it  longer  by  thy  tongue,  lest  I  shorten  the 
said  tongue  for  thee  with  cold  steel." 

"  What  does  he  mean  ? "  asked  Godiva,  shud- 
dering. 

"  This  !  "  quoth  Hereward,  fiercely  enough ; 
"  That  this  monk  forgets  that  I  have  been  a  monk 
myself,  or  should  have  been  one  by  now,  if  you, 
my  pious  mother,  had  had  your  will  of  me,  as  you 
may  if  you  like  of  that  baby  there  at  your  knee. 
He  forgets  why  I  left  Peterborough  Abbey,  when 
Winter  and  I  turned  all  the  priest's  books  upside 
down,  in  the  choir,  and  they  would  have  flogged 
us  —  me,  the  Earl's  son  —  me,  the  Viking's  son  — 
me,  the  champion  as  I  will  be  yet,  and  make  all 
lands  ring  with  the  fame  of  my  deeds,  as  they  rang 
with  the  fame  of  my  forefathers,  before  they  became 
the  slaves  of  monks ;  and  how,  when  Winter  and  I 


36  Hereward  the  Wake 

got  hold  of  the  kitchen  spits,  and  up  to  the  top  of 
the  peat-stack  by  Bolldyke-gate,  and  held  them  all 
at  bay  there,  a  whole  abbeyful  of  cowards  there 
against  two  seven-years'  children,  —  it  was  that 
weasel  there  bade  set  the  peat-stack  alight  under 
us,  and  so  bring  us  down ;  and  would  have  done  it, 
too,  had  it  not  been  for  my  uncle  Brand,  the  only 
man  that  I  care  for  in  this  wide  world.  Do  you 
think  I  have  not  owed  you  a  grudge  ever  since  that 
day,  monk?  And  do  you  think  I  will  not  pay  it? 
Do  you  think  I  would  not  have  burned  Peterborough 
Minster  over  your  head  before  now,  had  it  not  been 
for  Uncle  Brand's  sake?  See  that  I  do  not  do  it  yet. 
See  that  when  there  is  another  Prior  in  Borough  you 
do  not  find  Hereward  the  Berserker  smoking  you 
out  some  dark  night,  as  he  would  smoke  a  wasps' 
nest.  And  I  will,  by " 

"  Hereward,  Hereward !  "  cried  his  mother, 
"godless,  god-forgotten  boy,  what  words  are 
these  ?  Silence,  before  you  burden  your  soul  with 
an  oath  which  the  devils  in  hell  will  accept,  and 
force  you  to  keep,"  and  she  sprang  up,  and  seizing 
his  arm,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  mouth. 

Hereward  looked  at  her  majestic  face,  once 
lovely,  now  stern  and  careworn ;  and  trembled  for 
a  moment.  Had  there  been  any  tenderness  in  it, 
his  history  might  have  been  a  very  different  one ; 
but  alas !  there  was  none.  Not  that  she  was  in 
herself  untender :  but  that  her  great  piety  (call  it 
not  superstition,  for  it  was  then  the  only  form  known 
or  possible  to  pure  and  devout  souls)  was  so  out- 
raged by  this  insult  to  that  clergy  whose  willing 
slave  she  had  become,  that  the  only  method  of 
reclaiming  the  sinner  had  been  long  forgotten  in 
genuine  horror  at  his  sin.  "  Is  it  not  enough,"  she 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     37 

went  on  sternly,  "  that  you  should  have  become 
the  bully  and  the  ruffian  of  all  the  fens? — that 
Hereward  the  leaper,  Hereward  the  wrestler,  Here- 
ward  the  thrower  of  the  hammer,  —  sports  after  all 
only  fit  for  the  sons  of  slaves,  — should  be  also  Here- 
ward the  drunkard,  Hereward  the  common  fighter, 
Hereward  the  breaker  of  houses,  Hereward  the 
leader  of  mobs  of  boon  companions  who  bring 
back  to  us,  in  shame  and  sorrow,  the  days  when 
our  heathen  forefathers  ravaged  this  land  with  fire 
and  sword  ?  Is  it  not  enough  for  me  that  my  son 
should  be  a  common  stabber ?  " 

"  Whoever  called  me  stabber  to  you,  lies.  If  I 
have  killed  men,  or  had  them  killed,  I  have  done 
it  in  fair  fight." 

But  she  went  on  unheeding  —  "  Is  it  not  enough 
that  after  having  squandered  on  your  fellows  all  the 
money  that  you  could  wring  from  my  bounty,  or 
win  at  your  base  sports,  you  should  have  robbed 
your  own  father,  collected  his  rents  behind  his 
back,  taken  money  and  goods  from  his  tenants  by 
threats  and  blows :  but  that,  after  outraging  them, 
you  must  add  to  all  this  a  worse  sin  likewise,  out- 
raging God,  and  driving  me  —  me  who  have  borne 
with  you,  me  who  have  concealed  all  for  your  sake 
—  to  tell  your  father  that  of  which  the  very  telling 
will  turn  my  hair  to  gray?  " 

"So  you  will  tell  my  father?"  said  Hereward, 
coolly. 

"  And  if  I  should  not,  this  monk  himself  is  bound 
to  do  so,  or  his  superior,  your  uncle  Brand." 

"  My  uncle  Brand  will  not,  and  your  monk  dare 
not." 

"  Then  I  must.  I  have  loved  you  long  and 
well:  but  there  is  one  thing  which  I  must  love 


38  Hereward  the  Wake 

better  than  you,  and  that  is  my  conscience  and 
my  Maker." 

"  Those  are  two  things,  my  lady  mother,  and  not 
one ;  so  you  had  better  not  confound  them.  As  for 
the  latter,  do  you  not  think  that  He  who  made  the 
world  is  well  able  to  defend  His  own  property  —  if 
the  lands,  and  houses,  and  cattle,  and  money,  which 
these  men  wheedle  and  threaten  and  forge  out  of 
you  and  my  father,  are  really  His  property,  and  not 
merely  their  plunder?  As  for  your  conscience,  my 
lady  mother,  really  you  have  done  so  many  good 
deeds  in  your  life,  that  it  might  be  beneficial  to  you 
to  do  a  bad  deed  once  in  a  way,  so  as  to  keep  your 
soul  in  a  wholesome  state  of  humility." 

The  monk  groaned  aloud.  Lady  Godiva 
groaned :  but  it  was  inwardly.  There  was  silence 
for  a  moment.  Both  were  abashed  by  the  lad's 
utter  shamelessness. 

"And  you  will  tell  my  father?"  said  he  again. 
"  He  is  at  the  old  miracle-worker's  court  at  West- 
minster. He  will  tell  the  miracle-worker;  and 
I  shall  be  outlawed." 

"  And  if  you  be,  wretched  boy,  whom  have  you 
to  blame  but  yourself?  Can  you  expect  that  the 
king,  sainted  even  as  he  is  before  his  death,  dare 
pass  over  such  an  offence  against  Holy  Church?  " 

"Blame?  I  shall  blame  no  one.  Pass  over?  I 
hope  he  will  not  pass  over  it.  I  only  want  an  ex- 
cuse like  that  for  turning  kempery-man  —  knight- 
errant,  as  those  Norman  puppies  call  it  —  like 
Regnar  Lodbrog,  or  Frithiof,  or  Harold  Hard- 
raade ;  and  try  what  a  man  can  do  for  himself  in 
the  world  with  nothing  to  help  him  in  heaven  and 
earth,  with  neither  saint  nor  angel,  friend  nor 
counsellor,  to  see  to  him,  save  his  wits  and  his 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     39 

good  sword.  So  send  off  the  messenger,  good 
mother  mine ;  and  I  will  promise  you  I  will  not 
have  him  hamstrung  on  the  way,  as  some  of  my 
housecarles  would  do  if  I  but  held  up  my  hand ; 
and  let  the  miracle-monger  fill  up  the  measure  of 
his  folly,  by  making  an  enemy  of  one  more  bold 
fellow  in  the  world." 

And  he  swaggered  out  of  the  room. 

When  he  was  gone,  the  Lady  Godiva  bowed  her 
head  into  her  lap,  and  wept  long  and  bitterly. 
Neither  her  maidens  nor  the  priest  dare  speak  to 
her  for  nigh  an  hour :  but  at  the  end  of  that  time 
she  lifted  up  her  head,  and  settled  her  face  again, 
till  it  was  like  that  of  a  marble  saint  over  a  minster 
door;  and  called  for  ink  and  paper,  and  wrote  her 
letter ;  and  then  asked  for  a  trusty  messenger  who 
should  carry  it  up  to  Westminster. 

"  None  so  swift  or  sure,"  said  the  house  steward, 
"  as  Martin  Lightfoot." 

Lady  Godiva  shook  her  head.  "  I  mistrust  that 
man,"  she  said.  "  He  is  too  fond  of  my  poor  —  of 
the  Lord  Hereward." 

"  He  is  a  strange  one,  my  lady,  and  no  one 
knows  whence  he  came,  and  I  sometimes  fancy 
whither  he  may  go  either :  but  ever  since  my  Lord 
threatened  to  hang  him  for  talking  with  my  young 
master,  he  has  never  spoken  to  him,  nor  scarcely, 
indeed,  to  living  soul.  And  one  thing  there  is 
makes  him  or  any  man  sure,  as  long  as  he  is  well 
paid ;  and  that  is,  that  he  cares  for  nothing  in 
heaven  or  earth  save  himself  and  what  he  can 
get." 

So  Martin  Lightfoot  was  sent  for.  He  came  in 
straight  into  the  lady's  bedchamber,  after  the  sim- 
ple fashion  of  those  days.  He  was  a  tall,  bony 


40  Hereward  the  Wake 

man,  as  was  to  be  expected  from  his  nickname ; 
lean  as  a  rake,  with  a  long  hooked  nose,  a  scanty 
brown  beard,  and  a  high  conical  head.  His  only 
garment  was  a  shabby  gray  woollen  tunic  which 
served  him  both  as  coat  and  kilt,  and  laced  brogues 
of  untanned  hide.  He  might  have  been  any  age 
from  twenty  to  forty ;  but  his  face  was  disfigured 
with  deep  scars  and  long  exposure  to  the  weather. 
He  dropped  on  one  knee,  holding  his  greasy  cap 
in  his  hand,  and  looked,  not  at  his  lady's  face,  but 
at  her  feet,  with  a  stupid  and  frightened  expres- 
sion. She  knew  very  little  of  him,  save  that  her 
husband  had  picked  him  up  upon  the  road  as  a 
wanderer  some  five  years  since ;  that  he  had  been 
employed  as  a  doer  of  odd  jobs  and  runner  of 
messages;  and  that  he  was  supposed  from  his 
taciturnity  and  strangeness  to  have  something 
uncanny  about  him. 

"  Martin,"  said  the  lady,  "  they  tell  me  that  you 
are  a  silent  and  a  prudent  man." 

"  That  am  I. 

'  Tongue  breaketh  bane, 
Though  she  herself  hath  nane.'" 

"I  shall  try  you:  do  you  know  your  way  to 
London? " 

"  Yes.  Cardyke,  King  Street,  Ermine  Street, 
London  town." 

"  To  your  lord's  lodgings?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  going  there  with  this 
letter?" 

"  A  day  and  a  half." 

"  When  shall  you  be  back  hither?  " 

"  On  the  fourth  day." 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     41 

"  And  you  will  go  to  my  lord  and  deliver  this 
letter  safely?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  safely  bring  back  an  answer?  " 

"  Nay,  not  that." 

"Not  that?" 

Martin  made  a  doleful  face,  and  drew  his  hand 
first  across  his  leg,  and  then  across  his  throat,  as 
hints  of  the  doom  which  he  expected. 

"He  —  the  Lord  Hereward —  has  promised  not 
to  let  thee  be  harmed." 

Martin  gave  a  start,  and  his  dull  eyes  flashed  out 
a  moment;  but  the  next  he  answered,  as  curtly  as 
was  his  wont,  — 

"  The  more  fool  he.  But  women's  bodkins  are 
sharp,  as  well  as  men's  knives." 

"Bodkins?    Whose?    What  babblest  of  ?  " 

"  Them,"  said  Martin,  pointing  to  the  bower 
maidens,  —  girls  of  good  family  who  stood  round ; 
chosen  for  their  beauty,  after  the  fashion  of  those 
times,  to  attend  on  great  ladies.  There  was  a  cry 
of  angry  and  contemptuous  denial,  not  unmixed 
with  something  like  laughter,  which  showed  that 
Martin  had  but  spoken  the  truth.  Hereward,  in 
spite  of  all  his  sins,  was  the  darling  of  his  mother's 
bower ;  and  there  was  not  one  of  the  damsels  but 
would  have  done  anything  short  of  murder  to  have 
prevented  Martin  carrying  the  letter. 

"  Silence,  man !  "  said  Lady  Godiva,  so  sternly 
that  Martin  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far.  "  How 
knows  such  as  thou  what  is  in  this  letter?  " 

"  All  the  town  must  know,"  said  Martin,  sullenly. 

"  Best  that  they  should,  and  know  that  right  is 
done  here,"  said  she,  trying  to  be  stern. 

"  I  will  take  it,"  said  Martin.     He  held  out  his 

Vol.  12— C 


42  Hereward  the  Wake 

hand,  took  it,  and  looked  at  it,  but  upside  down 
and  without  any  attempt  to  read  it. 

"  His  own  mother !  "  said  he,  after  a  while. 

"What  is  that  to  thee?"  said  Lady  Godiva, 
blushing  and  kindling. 

"  Nothing —  I  had  no  mother.    But  God  has  one." 

"What  meanest  thou,  knave?  Wilt  thou  take 
the  letter  or  no?  " 

"  I  will  take  it."  And  he  again  looked  at  it, 
without  rising  off  his  knee.  "  His  own  father,  too." 

"  What  is  that  to  thee,  I  say  again  ?  " 

"  Nothing  —  I  have  no  father.  But  God's  Son 
has  one." 

"  What  wilt  thou,  thou  strange  man  ?  "  asked  she, 
puzzled  and  half-frightened ;  "  and  how  earnest  thou, 
again  I  ask,  to  know  what  is  in  this  letter?  " 

"  All  the  town,  I  say  again,  must  know.  A  city 
that  is  set  on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid.  On  the  fourth 
day  from  this  I  will  be  back." 

And  Martin  rose,  and  putting  the  letter  solemnly 
into  the  purse  at  his  girdle,  shot  out  of  the  door 
with  clenched  teeth,  as  a  man  upon  a  fixed  purpose 
which  it  would  lighten  his  heart  to  carry  out.  He 
ran  rapidly  through  the  large  outer  hall,  past  the 
long  oak  table,  at  which  Hereward  and  his  boon 
companions  were  drinking  and  roistering.  As  he 
passed  the  young  lord  he  cast  on  him  a  look  so  full 
of  meaning,  that  though  Hereward  knew  not  what 
the  meaning  was,  it  startled  him,  and  for  a  moment 
softened  him.  Did  this  man,  who  had  sullenly 
avoided  him  for  more  than  two  years,  whom  he 
had  looked  on  as  a  clod  or  a  post  in  the  field 
beneath  his  notice,  since  he  could  be  of  no  use  to 
him  —  did  this  man  still  care  for  him  ?  Hereward 
had  reason  to  know  better  than  most,  that  there 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     43 

was  something  strange  and  uncanny  about  the 
man.  Did  he  mean  him  well?  Or  had  he  some 
grudge  against  him,  which  made  him  undertake 
this  journey  willingly  and  out  of  spite  —  possibly 
with  the  will  to  make  bad  worse?  For  an  instant 
Hereward's  heart  misgave  him.  He  would  stop 
the  letter  at  all  risks.  "  Hold  him  !  "  he  cried  to 
his  comrades. 

But  Martin  turned  to  him,  laid  his  finger  on  his 
lips,  smiled  kindly,  and  saying,  "  You  promised !  " 
caught  up  a  loaf  from  the  table,  slipped  from 
amongst  them  like  an  eel,  and  darted  through  the 
door,  and  out  of  the  close.  They  followed  him  to 
the  great  gate,  and  there  stopped,  some  cursing, 
some  laughing.  To  give  Martin  Lightfoot  a  yard 
of  law  was  never  to  come  up  with  him  again. 
Some  called  for  bows  to  bring  him  down  with  a 
parting  shot.  But  Hereward  forbade  them;  and 
stood  leaning  against  the  gate-post,  watching  him 
trot  on  like  a  lean  wolf  over  the  lawn,  till  he 
sprang  upon  the  Car-dyke  bank,  and  fled  straight 
south  into  the  misty  fen. 

"  Now,  lads,"  said  Hereward,  "  home  with  you  all, 
and  make  your  peace  with  your  fathers.  In  this 
house  you  never  drink  ale  again." 

They  looked  at  him,  surprised. 

"  You  are  disbanded,  my  gallant  army.  As 
long  as  I  could  cut  long  thongs  out  of  other 
men's  hides,  I  could  feed  you  like  earls'  sons :  but 
now  I  must  feed  myself;  and  a  dog  over  his  bone 
wants  no  company.  Outlawed  I  shall  be,  before 
the  week  is  out;  and  unless  you  wish  to  be  out- 
lawed too,  you  will  obey  orders,  and  home." 

"  We  will  follow  you  to  the  world's  end,"  cried 
some. 


44  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  To  the  rope's  end,  lads :  that  is  all  you  will  get 
in  my  company.  Go  home  with  you,  and  those 
who  feel  a  calling,  let  them  turn  monks;  and  those 
who  have  not,  let  them  learn 

*  For  to  plough  and  to  sow, 
And  to  reap  and  to  mow, 
And  to  be  a  farmer's  boy.' 

Good  night" 

And  he  went  in,  and  shut  the  great  gates  after 
him,  leaving  them  astonished. 

To  take  his  advice,  and  go  home,  was  the 
simplest  thing  to  be  done.  A  few  of  them  on 
their  return  were  soundly  beaten,  and  deserved  it; 
a  few  were  hidden  by  their  mothers  for  a  week  in 
hay-lofts  and  hen-roosts,  till  their  fathers'  anger 
had  passed  away.  But  only  one  seems  to  have 
turned  monk  or  clerk,  and  that  was  Leofric  the 
Unlucky,  godson  of  the  great  earl,  and  poet-in- 
ordinary  to  the  band. 

The  next  morning  at  dawn  Hereward  mounted 
his  best  horse,  armed  himself  from  head  to  foot 
and  rode  over  to  Peterborough. 

When  he  came  to  the  abbey-gate,  he  smote 
thereon  with  his  lance-butt,  till  the  porter's  teeth 
rattled  in  his  head  for  fear. 

"  Let  me  in  !  "  he  shouted.  "  I  am  Hereward 
Leofricsson.  I  must  see  my  uncle  Brand." 

"  Oh,  my  most  gracious  lord,"  cried  the  porter, 
thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  wicket,  "  what  is  this 
that  you  have  been  doing  to  our  steward  ?  " 

"  The  tithe  of  what  I  will  do  unless  you  open 
the  gate !  " 

"  Oh,  my  lord  !  "  said  the  porter,  as  he  opened 
it,  "  if  our  Lady  and  St.  Peter  would  but  have 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     45 

mercy  on  your  fair  face,  and  convert  your  soul  to 
the  fear  of  God  and  man " 

"She  would  make  me  as  good  an  old  fool  as 
you.  Fetch  my  uncle  the  prior." 

The  porter  obeyed.  The  son  of  Earl  Leofric  was 
as  a  young  lion  among  the  sheep  in  those  parts ; 
and  few  dare  say  him  nay,  certainly  not  the  monks 
of  Peterborough ;  moreover,  the  good  porter  could 
not  help  being  strangely  fond  of  Hereward  —  as 
was  every  one  whom  he  did  not  insult,  rob,  or  kill. 

Out  came  Brand,  a  noble  elder :  more  fit,  from 
his  eye  and  gait,  to  be  a  knight  than  a  monk.  He 
looked  sadly  at  Hereward. 

"  '  Dear  is  bought  the  honey  that  is  licked  off 
the  thorn,'  quoth  Hending,"  said  he. 

"  Hending  bought  his  wisdom  by  experience,  I 
suppose,"  said  Hereward,  "  and  so  must  I.  So  I 
am  just  starting  out  to  see  the  world,  uncle." 

"  Naughty,  naughty  boy !  If  we  had  thee  safe 
here  again  for  a  week,  we  would  take  this  hot  blood 
out  of  thee,  and  send  thee  home  in  thy  right  mind." 

"  Bring  a  rod  and  whip  me,  then.  Try,  and  you 
shall  have  your  chance.  Every  one  else  has  had, 
and  this  is  the  end  of  their  labors." 

"  By  the  chains  of  St.  Peter,"  quoth  the  monk, 
"that  is  just  what  thou  needest.  —  To  hoist  thee 
on  such  another  fool's  back,  truss  thee  up,  and  lay 
it  on  lustily,  till  thou  art  ashamed.  To  treat  thee 
as  a  man  is  only  to  make  thee  a  more  heady 
blown  up  ass  than  thou  art  already." 

"  True,  most  wise  uncle.  And  therefore  my  still 
wiser  parents  are  going  to  treat  me  like  a  man  indeed, 
and  send  me  out  into  the  world  to  seek  my  fortunes  ! " 

"Eh?" 

"  They  are  going  to  prove  how  thoroughly  they 


46  Hereward  the  Wake 

trust  me  to  take  care  of  myself,  by  outlawing  me. 
Eh?  say  I  in  return.  Is  not  that  an  honor,  and  a 
proof  that  I  have  not  shown  myself  a  fool,  though 
I  may  have  a  madman?" 

"Outlaw  you?  Oh,  my  boy,  my  darling,  my 
pride !  Get  off  thy  horse,  and  don't  sit  up  there, 
hand  on  hip,  like  a  turbaned  Saracen,  defying 
God  and  man :  but  come  down  and  talk  reason  to 
me,  for  the  sake  of  St.  Peter  and  all  saints." 

Hereward  threw  himself  off  his  horse,  and  threw 
his  arms  round  his  uncle's  neck. 

"  Pish !  Now,  uncle,  don't  cry,  do  what  you  will ; 
lest  I  cry  too.  Help  me  to  be  a  man  while  I  live, 
even  if  I  go  to  the  black  place  when  I  die." 

"  It  shall  not  be !  "  .  .  .  and  the  monk  swore 
by  all  the  relics  in  Peterborough  minster. 

"  It  must  be.  It  shall  be.  I  like  to  be  outlawed. 
I  want  to  be  outlawed.  It  makes  one  feel  like  a  man. 
There  is  not  an  earl  in  England,  save  my  father, 
who  has  not  been  outlawed  in  his  time.  My 
brother  Algar  will  be  outlawed  before  he  dies,  if  he 
has  the  spirit  of  a  man  in  him.  It  is  the  fashion, 
my  uncle,  and  I  must  follow  it.  So  hey  for  the 
merry  greenwood,  and  the  long  ships,  and  the 
swan's  bath,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Uncle,  you  will 
lend  me  fifty  silver  pennies  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  would  not  lend  thee  one,  if  I  had  it,  which 
I  have  not.  And  yet,  old  fool  that  I  am,  I  believe 
I  would." 

"  I  would  pay  thee  back  honestly.  I  shall  go 
down  to  Constantinople  to  the  Varangers,  get  my 
Polotaswarf l  out  of  the  Kaiser's  treasure,  and  pay 
thee  back  five  to  one." 

1  See  "  The  Heimskringla,"  Harold  Hardraade's  Saga,  for  the 
meaning  of  this  word. 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     47 

"  What  does  this  son  of  Belial  here  ?  "  asked  an 
austere  voice. 

"  Ah !  Abbot  Leofric,  my  very  good  lord.  I 
have  come  to  ask  hospitality  of  you  for  some 
three  days.  By  that  time  I  shall  be  a  wolfs  head, 
and  out  of  the  law :  and  then,  if  you  will  give  me 
ten  minutes'  start,  you  may  put  your  bloodhounds 
on  my  track,  and  see  which  run  fastest,  they  or  I. 
You  are  a  gentleman,  and  a  man  of  honor;  so 
I  trust  you  to  feed  my  horse  fairly  the  meanwhile, 
and  not  to  let  your  monks  poison  me." 

The  abbot's  face  relaxed.  He  tried  to  look  as 
solemn  as  he  could ;  but  he  ended  in  bursting  into 
a  very  great  laughter. 

"  The  insolence  of  this  lad  passes  the  miracles  of 
all  saints.  He  robs  St.  Peter  on  the  highway, 
breaks  into  his  abbey,  insults  him  to  his  face,  and 
then  asks  him  for  hospitality ;  and " 

"  And  gets  it,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  him,  Brand,  my 
friend  ?  If  we  turn  him  out " 

"  Which  we  cannot  do,"  said  Brand,  looking 
at  the  well-mailed  and  armed  lad,  "  without  calling 
in  half-a-dozen  of  our  men-at-arms." 

"  In  which  case  there  would  be  blood  shed  and 
scandal  made  in  the  holy  precincts." 

"  And  nothing  gained ;  for  yield  he  would  not 
till  he  was  killed  outright,  which  Heaven  forbid  !  " 

"  Amen.  And  if  he  stay  here,  he  may  be  per- 
suaded to  repentance." 

"And  restitution." 

"  As  for  that,"  quoth  Hereward  (who  had 
remounted  his  horse  from  prudential  motives,  and 
set  him  athwart  the  gateway,  so  that  there  was 
no  chance  of  the  doors  being  slammed  behind 


48  Hereward  the  Wake 

him),  "  if  either  of  you  will  lend  me  sixteen  pennies, 
I  will  pay  them  back  to  you  and  St.  Peter  before 
I  die,  with  interest  enough  to  satisfy  any  Jew, 
on  the  word  of  a  gentleman  and  an  earl's  son." 

The  abbot  burst  again  into  a  great  laughter. 
"  Come  in,  thou  graceless  renegade,  and  we  will 
see  to  thee  and  thy  horse;  and  I  will  pray  to 
St.  Peter;  and  I  doubt  not  he  will  have  patience 
with  thee,  for  he  is  very  merciful ;  and  after  all, 
thy  parents  have  been  exceeding  good  to  us,  and 
the  righteousness  of  the  father,  like  his  sins,  is 
sometimes  visited  on  the  children." 

Now,  why  were  the  two  ecclesiastics  so  uncanoni- 
cally  kind  to  this  wicked  youth? 

Perhaps  because  both  the  old  bachelors  were 
wishing  from  their  hearts  that  they  had  just  such 
a  son  of  their  own.  And  beside,  Earl  Leofric 
was  a  very  great  man  indeed ;  and  the  wind  might 
change;  for  it  is  an  unstable  world. 

"  Only,  mind  one  thing,"  said  the  naughty  boy, 
as  he  dismounted,  and  halloed  to  a  lay-brother 
to  see  to  his  horse  — "  don't  let  me  see  the 
face  of  that  Herluin." 

"And  why?  You  have  wronged  him,  and  he 
will  forgive  you,  doubtless,  like  a  good  Christian 
as  he  is." 

"That  is  his  concern.  But  if  I  see  him,  I  cut 
off  his  head.  And,  as  uncle  Brand  knows,  I 
always  sleep  with  my  sword  under  my  pillow." 

"  Oh,  that  such  a  mother  should  have  borne 
such  a  son !  "  groaned  the  abbot,  as  they  went 
in. 

On  the  fifth  day  came  Martin  Lightfoot,  and 
found  Hereward  in  Prior  Brand's  private  cell. 

"Well?"  asked  Hereward,  coolly. 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     49 

"  Is   he  ? Is   he ?  "   stammered  Brand, 

and  could  not  finish  his  sentence. 

Martin  nodded. 

Hereward  laughed  —  a  loud,  swaggering,  uneasy 
laugh. 

"  See  what  it  is  to  be  born  of  just  and  pious 
parents.  Come,  Master  Trot-alone,  speak  out  and 
tell  us  all  about  it.  Thy  lean  wolf's  legs  have  run 
to  some  purpose.  Open  thy  lean  wolf's  mouth 
and  speak  for  once,  lest  I  ease  thy  legs  for  the 
rest  of  thy  life  by  a  cut  across  the  hams.  Find 
thy  lost  tongue,  I  say !  " 

"  Walls  have  ears,  as  well  as  the  wild  wood," 
said  Martin. 

"  We  are  safe  here,"  said  the  prior ;  "  so  speak, 
and  tell  us  the  whole  truth." 

"Well,  when  the  earl  read  the  letter  he  turned 
red,  and  pale  again,  and  then  naught  but  — '  Men, 
follow  me  to  the  king  at  Westminster.'  So  we 
went,  all  with  our  weapons,  twenty  or  more,  along 
the  Strand,  and  up  into  the  king's  new  hall;  and 
a  grand  hall  it  is,  but  not  easy  to  get  into,  for  the 
crowd  of  monks  and  beggars  on  the  stairs,  hinder- 
ing honest  folks'  business.  And  there  sat  the 
king  on  a  high  settle,  with  his  pink  face  and  white 
hair,  looking  as  royal  as  a  bell-wether  new  washed ; 
and  on  either  side  of  him,  on  the  same  settle,  sat 
the  old  fox  and  the  young  wolf."  1 

"Godwin  and  Harold?  And  where  was  the 
queen?" 

"  Sitting  on  a  stool  at  his  feet,  with  her  hands 
together  as  if  she  were  praying,  and  her  eyes  down- 
cast, as  demure  as  any  cat.  And  so  is  fulfilled  the 

1  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  house  of  Godwin  is  spoken 
of  throughout  this  book  by  hereditary  enemies. 


50  Hereward  the  Wake 

story,  how  the  sheep  dog  went  out  to  get  married, 
and  left  the  fox,  the  wolf,  and  the  cat  to  guard 
the  flock." 

"  If  thou  hast  found  thy  tongue,"  said  Brand, 
"  thou  art  like  enough  to  lose  it  again  by  slice  of 
knife,  talking  such  ribaldry  of  dignities.  Dost  not 
know  "  —  and  he  sank  his  voice  —  "  that  Abbot 
Leofric  is  Earl  Harold's  man,  and  that  Harold 
himself  made  him  abbot?" 

"I  said — Walls  have  ears.  It  was  you  who 
told  me  that  we  were  safe.  However,  I  will  bridle 
the  unruly  one."  And  he  went  on.  "  And  your 
father  walked  up  the  hall,  his  left  hand  on  his 
sword-hilt,  looking  an  earl  all  over,  as  he  is." 

"  He  is  that,"  said  Hereward,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  he  bowed ;  and  the  most  magnificent, 
powerful,  and  virtuous  Godwin  (is  that  speaking 
evil  of  dignities?)  would  have  beckoned  him  up  to 
sit  on  the  high  settle:  but  he  looked  straight  at 
the  kin<j,  as  if  there  were  never  a  Godwin  or  a 
Godwinsson  on  earth,  and  cried  as  he  stood : 

"  '  Juctice,  my  lord  the  king ! ' 

"  And  at  lhat  the  king  turned  pale,  and  said : 
'Who?  What?  Oh  miserable  world !  Oh  last 
days  drawing  nearer  and  nearer !  Oh  earth,  full 
of  violence  and  blood  !  Who  has  wronged  thee 
now,  most  dear  and  noble  earl?' 

"  '  Justice  against  my  own  son.' 

"At  that  the  fox  looked  at  the  wolf,  and  the 
wolf  at  the  fox,  and  if  they  did  not  smile,  it  was 
not  for  want  of  will,  I  warrant.  But  your  father 
went  on,  and  told  all  his  story ;  and  when  he  came 
to  your  robbing  master  monk  —  '  O  apostate  !  ' 
cries  the  bell-wether,  '  O  spawn  of  Beelzebub ! 
excommunicate  him,  with  bell,  book,  am*- candle 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     51 

May  he  be  thrust  down  with  Korah,  Balaam,  and 
Iscariot,  to  the  most  Stygian  pot  of  the  sempiternal 
Tartarus.' 

"  And  at  that  your  father  smiled.  '  That  is 
bishops'  work, '  says  he,  '  and  I  want  king's  work 
from  you,  lord  king.  Outlaw  me  this  young 
rebel's  sinful  body,  as  by  law  you  can ;  and  leave 
his  sinful  soul  to  the  priests  —  or  to  God's  mercy, 
which  is  like  to  be  more  than  theirs.' 

"Then  the  queen  looked  up.  'Your  own  son, 
noble  earl?  Think  of  what  you  are  doing — and 
one,  too,  who  all  say  is  so  gallant  and  so  fair. 
Oh  persuade  him,  father  —  persuade  him,  Harold 
my  brother  —  or,  if  you  cannot  persuade  him,  per- 
suade the  king  at  least,  and  save  this  poor  youth 
from  exile.'  " 

"  Puss  Velvet-paw  knew  well  enough,"  said  Here- 
ward,  in  a  low  voice,  "  that  the  way  to  harden  my 
father's  heart  was  to  set  Godwin  and  Harold  on 
softening  it.  They  ask  my  pardon  from  the  king? 
I  would  not  take  it  at  their  asking,  even  if  my 
father  would." 

"  There  spoke  a  true  Leofricsson,"  said  Brand, 
in  spite  of  himself. 

"  '  By  the '  "(and  Martin  repeated  a  certain 

very  solemn  oath),  "  said  your  father,  'justice  I  will 
have,  my  lord  king.  Who  talks  to  me  of  my  own 
son?  You  put  me  into  my  earldom  to  see  justice 
done,  and  law  obeyed ;  and  how  shall  I  make  others 
keep  within  bound  if  I  am  not  to  keep  in  my  own 
flesh  and  blood?  Here  is  this  land  running  head- 
long to  ruin,  because  every  nobleman  —  ay,  every 
churl  who  owns  a  manor,  if  he  dares  —  must  needs 
arm  and  saddle,  and  levy  war  on  his  own  behalf, 
and  harry  and  slay  the  king's  lieges,  if  he  have  not 


52  Hereward  the  Wake 

garlic  to  his  roast  goose  every  time  he  chooses/  — 
and  there  your  father  did  look  at  Godwin,  once 
and  for  all,  — '  and  shall  I  let  my  son  follow  the 
fashion,  and  do  his  best  to  leave  the  land  open 
and  weak  for  Norseman,  or  Dane,  or  Frenchman, 
or  whoever  else  hopes  next  to  mount  the  throne  of 
a  king  who  is  too  holy  to  leave  an  heir  behind 
him?'" 

"  Ahoi !  Martin  the  silent !  Where  learnedst 
thou  so  suddenly  the  trade  of  preaching?  I 
thought  thou  hadst  kept  thy  wind  for  thy  running 
this  two  years  past.  Thou  wouldst  make  as  good  a 
talker  among  the  Witan  as  Godwin  himself.  Thou 
givest  it  us,  all  word  for  word,  and  voice  and  ges- 
ture withal,  as  if  thou  wert  King  Edward's  French 
chancellor." 

Martin  smiled.  "  I  am  like  Falada  the  horse, 
my  lords,  who  could  only  speak  to  his  own  true 
princess.  Why  I  held  my  tongue  of  late,  was  only 
lest  they  should  cut  my  head  off  for  talking,  as 
they  did  poor  Falada's." 

"Thou  art  a  very  crafty  knave,"  said  Brand, 
"  and  hast  had  clerk-learning  in  thy  time,  I  can 
see,  and  made  bad  use  of  it.  I  misdoubt  very 
much  that  thou  art  some  runaway  monk." 

"That  am  I  not,  by  St.  Peter's  chains!"  said 
Martin,  in  an^eager,  terrified  voice.  "  Lord  Here- 
ward,  I  came  hither  as  your  father's  messenger  and 
servant.  You  will  see  me  safe  out  of  this  abbey, 
like  an  honorable  gentleman  !  " 

"  I  will.  All  I  know  of  him,  uncle,  is  that  he 
used  to  tell  me  stories,  when  I  was  a  boy,  of  en- 
chanters and  knights  and  dragons,  and  such  like ; 
and  got  into  trouble  for  filling  my  head  with  such 
fancies.  Now  let  him  tell  his  story  in  peace." 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     53 

"  He  shall :  but  I  misdoubt  the  fellow  very  much 
He  talks  as  if  he  knew  Latin ;  and  what  business 
has  a  foot-running  slave  to  do  that?" 

So  Martin  went  on,  somewhat  abashed.    "  '  And, 
said  your  father,  'justice  I  will  have,  and  leave  in 
justice,   and  the  overlooking  of  it,  to  those  who 
wish  to  profit  thereby.' 

"  And  at  that  Godwin  smiled,  and  said  to  the 
king :  '  The  earl  is  wise,  as  usual,  and  speaks  like 
a  very  Solomon.  Your  Majesty  must,  in  spite  of 
your  own  tenderness  of  heart,  have  these  letters 
of  outlawry  made  out.' 

"  Then  all  our  men  murmured  —  and  I  as  loud 
as  any.  But  old  Surturbrand,  the  housecarle,  did 
more ;  for  out  he  stepped  to  your  father's  side,  and 
spoke  right  up  before  the  king. 

"'Bonny  times,'  he  said,  'I  have  lived  to  see, 
when  a  lad  of  Earl  Oslac's  blood  is  sent  out  of  the 
land,  a  beggar  and  a  wolf's  head,  for  playing  a 
boy's  trick  or  two,  and  upsetting  a  shaveling  priest ! 
We  managed  such  wild  young  colts  better,  we 
Vikings  who  conquered  the  Danelagh.  If  Canute 
had  had  a  son  like  Hereward  —  as  would  to  God 
he  had  had  —  he  would  have  dealt  with  him  as  old 
Swend  Forkbeard  (God  grant  I  meet  him  in  Val- 
halla, in  spite  of  all  priests!)  did  by  Canute  him- 
self when  he  was  young,  and  kicked  and  plunged 
awhile  at  being  first  bitted  and  saddled.' 

"'What  does   the  man  say?'  asked  the  king 
for  old  Surturbrand  was  talking  broad  Danish. 

" '  He  is  a  housecarle  of  mine,  lord  king,  a 
good  man  and  true;  but  old  age  and  rough 
Danish  blood  have  made  him  forget  that  he  stands 
before  kings  and  earls.' 

" '  By  the   head   of  Odin's   horse,    earl ! '    says 


54  Hcreward  the  Wake 

Surturbrand,  '  I  have  fought  knee  to  knee  beside 
a  braver  king  than  that  there,  and  nobler  earls  than 
ever  a  one  here ;  and  was  never  afraid,  like  a  free 
Dane,  to  speak  my  mind  to  them,  by  sea  or  land. 
And  if  the  king,  with  his  French  ways,  does  not 
understand  a  plain  man's  talk,  the  two  earls  yon- 
der do  right  well ;  and  I  say  —  Deal  by  this  lad  in 
the  good  old  fashion.  Give  him  half-a-dozen  long 
ships,  and  what  crews  he  can  get  together,  and 
send  him  out,  as  Canute  would  have  done,  to  seek 
his  fortune  like  a  Viking ;  and  if  he  comes  home 
with  plenty  of  wounds,  and  plenty  of  plunder,  give 
him  an  earldom  as  he  deserves.  Do  you  ask  your 
countess,  Earl  Godwin  —  she  is  of  the  right  Danish 
blood,  God  bless  her  !  though  she  is  your  wife,  — 
and  see  if  she  does  not  know  how  to  bring  a 
naughty  lad  to  his  senses.' 

"  Then  Harold  the  earl  said :  '  The  old  man  is 
right,  king ;  listen  to  what  he  says.'  And  he  told 
him  all  quite  eagerly." 

"  How  did  you  know  that?  Can  you  understand 
French?" 

"  I  am  a  poor  idiot,  give  me  a  halfpenny,"  said 
Martin,  in  a  doleful  voice,  as  he  threw  into  his 
face  and  whole  figure  a  look  of  helpless  stupidity 
and  awkwardness,  which  set  them  both  laughing. 

But  Hereward  checked  himself.  "And  thou 
thinkest  he  was  in  earnest?" 

"  As  sure  as  there  are  holy  crows  in  Crowland. 
But  it  was  of  no  use.  Your  father  got  a  parch- 
ment, with  an  outlandish  Norman  seal  hanging  to 
it,  and  sent  me  off  with  it  that  same  night  to  give 
to  the  lawman.  So  wolf's  head  you  are,  my  lord, 
and  there  is  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk." 

"And  Harold  spoke  for  me?      Not  that  I  care, 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     55 

but  it  will  be  as  well  to  tell  Abbot  Leofric  that,  in 
case  he  be  inclined  to  turn  traitor,  and  refuse  to 
open  the  gates.  Once  outside  them,  I  fear  not 
mortal  man." 

"  My  poor  boy,  there  will  be  many  a  one  whom 
thou  hast  wronged  only  too  ready  to  lie  in  wait  for 
thee,  now  thy  life  is  in  every  man's  hand.  If  the 
outlawry  is  published,  thou  hadst  best  start  to- 
night, and  get  past  Lincoln  before  morning." 

"  I  shall  stay  quietly  here,  and  get  a  good  night's 
rest ;  and  then  ride  out  to-morrow  morning  in  the 
face  of  the  whole  shire.  No,  not  a  word  !  You 
would  not  have  me  sneak  away  like  a  coward  ?  " 

Brand  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  being 
very  much  of  the  same  mind. 

"  At  least,  go  north." 

"And  why  north?" 

"  You  have  no  quarrel  in  Northumberland,  and 
the  king's  writ  runs  very  slowly  there,  if  at  all. 
Old  Siward  Digre  may  stand  your  friend." 

"  He  ?  he  is  a  fast  friend  of  my  father's." 

"What  of  that?  The  old  Viking  will  like  you 
none  the  less  for  having  shown  a  touch  of  his  own 
temper.  Go  to  him,  I  say,  and  tell  him  that  I  sent 
you." 

"  But  he  is  fighting  the  Scots  beyond  the  Forth." 

"  So  much  the  better.  There  will  be  good  work 
for  you  to  do.  And  Gilbert  of  Ghent  is  up  there 
too,  I  hear,  trying  to  settle  himself  among  the 
Scots.  He  is  your  mother's  kinsman;  and  as  for 
your  being  an  outlaw,  he  wants  hard  hitters  and 
hard  riders,  and  all  is  fish  that  comes  to  his  net. 
Find  him  out  too,  and  tell  him  that  I  sent  you." 

"You  are  a  good  old  uncle,"  said  Hereward. 
"  Why  were  you  not  a  soldier?" 


56  Hereward  the  Wake 

Brand  laughed  somewhat  sadly. 

"  If  I  had  been  a  soldier,  lad,  where  wouldst  thou 
have  looked  for  a  friend  this  day?  No.  God  has 
done  what  was  merciful  with  me  and  my  sins.  May 
He  do  the  same  by  thee  and  thine." 

Hereward  made  an  impatient  movement.  He 
disliked  any  word  which  seemed  likely  to  soften 
his  own  hardness  of  heart.  But  he  kissed  his 
uncle  lovingly  on  both  cheeks. 

"  By  the  by,  Martin  —  any  message  from  my 
lady  mother  ?  " 

"None!" 

"  Quite  right  and  pious.  I  am  an  enemy  to  Holy 
Church  and  therefore  to  her.  Good  night,  uncle." 

"  Hey?  "  asked  Brand ;  "  where  is  that  footman 
—  Martin  you  call  him?  I  must  have  another 
word  with  him." 

But  Martin  was  gone. 

"No  matter.  I  shall  question  him  sharpl) 
enough  to-morrow,  I  warrant." 

And  Hereward  went  out  to  his  lodging;  while 
the  good  prior  went  to  his  prayers. 

When  Hereward  entered  his  room,  Martin  started 
out  of  the  darkness,  and  followed  him  in.  Then  he 
shut  to  the  door  carefully,  and  pulled  out  a  bag. 

"  There  was  no  message  from  my  lady,  but 
there  was  this." 

The  bag  was  full  of  money. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  before?  " 

"  Never  show  money  before  a  monk." 

"  Villain  !  would  you  mistrust  my  uncle?  " 

"Any  man  with  a  shaven  crown.  St.  Peter  is 
his  God,  and  Lord,  and  conscience ;  and  if  he  saw 
but  the  shine  of  a  penny,  for  St.  Peter  he  would 
want  it." 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     57 

"  And  he  shall  have  it,"  quoth  Hereward ;  and 
flung  out  of  the  room,  and  into  his  uncle's. 

"  Uncle,  I  have  money.  I  am  come  to  pay 
back  what  I  took  from  the  steward,  and  as  much 
more  into  the  bargain."  And  he  told  out  eight- 
and-thirty  pieces. 

"  Thank  God  and  all  his  saints !  "  cried  Brand, 
weeping  abundantly  for  joy;  for  he  had  acquired, 
by  long  devotion,  the  donum  lachrymarum  —  that 
lachrymose  and  somewhat  hysterical  temperament 
common  among  pious  monks,  and  held  to  be  a 
mark  of  grace. 

"  Blessed  St.  Peter,  thou  art  repaid ;  and  thou 
wilt  be  merciful." 

Brand  believed,  in  common  with  all  monks  then, 
that  Hereward  had  robbed,  not  merely  the  Abbey 
of  Peterborough,  but  what  was  more,  St.  Peter 
himself;  thereby  converting  into  an  implacable 
and  internecine  foe  the  chief  of  the  Apostles,  the 
rock  on  which  was  founded  the  whole  Church. 

"  Now,  uncle,"  said  Hereward,  "  do  me  one 
good  deed  in  return.  Promise  me  that,  if  you 
can  help  it,  none  of  my  poor  housecarles  shall 
suffer  for  my  sins.  I  led  them  into  trouble.  I  am 
punished.  I  have  made  restitution — at  least  to 
St.  Peter.  See  that  my  father  and  mother,  if  they 
be  the  Christians  they  call  themselves,  forgive  and 
forget  all  offences  except  mine." 

"  I  will ;  so  help  me  all  saints  and  our  Lord. 
Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy,  thou  shouldst  have  been  a 
king's  thane,  and  not  an  outlaw !  " 

And  he  hurried  off  with  the  news  to  the  abbot. 

When  Hereward  returned  to  his  room,  Martin 
was  gone. 

"  Farewell,   good    men   of  Peterborough,"    said 


58  Hereward  the  Wake 

Hereward,  as  he  leapt  into  the  saddle  next  morn- 
ing. "  I  had  made  a  vow  against  you,  and  came 
to  try  you,  and  see  whether  you  would  force  me 
to  fulfil  it  or  not.  But  you  have  been  so  kind  that 
I  have  half  repented  thereof;  and  the  evil  shall 
not  come  in  the  days  of  Abbot  Leofric,  nor  of 
Brand  the  prior,  though  it  may  come  in  the  days 
of  Herluin  the  steward,  if  he  live  long  enough." 

"What  meanest  thou,  incarnate  fiend,  only  fit 
to  worship  Thor  and  Odin?"  asked  Brand. 

"  That  I  would  burn  Goldenborough,  and  Her- 
luin the  steward  within  it,  ere  I  die.  I  fear  I  shall 
do  it :  I  fear  I  must  do  it.  Ten  years  ago  come 
Lammas,  Herluin  bade  light  the  peat  stack  under 
me.  Do  you  recollect  ?  " 

"  And  so  he  did,  the  hound ! "  quoth  Brand. 
"I  had  forgotten  that." 

"  Little  Hereward  never  forgets  foe  or  friend. 
Ever  since,  on  Lammas  night  —  hold  still,  horse  ! 
—  I  dream  of  fire  and  flame,  and  of  Goldenborough 
in  the  glare  of  it.  If  it  is  written  in  the  big  book, 
happen  it  must;  if  not,  so  much  the  better  for 
Goldenborough,  for  it  is  a  pretty  place,  and  honest 
Englishmen  in  it.  Only  see  that  there  be  not  too 
many  Frenchmen  crept  in  when  I  come  back,  be- 
side our  French  friend  Herluin ;  and  see,  too,  that 
there  be  not  a  peat  stack  handy  at  the  Bolldyke 
gate  —  a  word  is  enough  to  wise  men  like  you. 
Good-bye ! " 

"  God  help  thee,  thou  sinful  boy ! "  said  the 
abbot. 

"  Hereward,  Hereward  !  Come  back  !  "  cried 
Brand. 

But  the  boy  had  spurred  his  horse  through  the 
gateway,  and  was  far  down  the  road. 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     59 

"  Leofric,  my  friend,"  said  Brand,  sadly,  "  this  is 
my  sin,  and  no  man's  else.  And  heavy  penance 
will  I  do  for  it,  till  that  lad  returns  in  peace." 

"Your  sin?" 

"  Mine,  abbot.  I  persuaded  his  mother  to  send 
him  hither  to  be  a  monk.  Alas  !  alas  !  How  long 
will  men  try  to  be  wiser  than  He  who  maketh 
men?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  thee,"  quoth  the  abbot. 
And  no  more  he  did. 

It  was  four  o'clock  on  a  May  morning  when 
Hereward  set  out  to  see  the  world,  with  good 
armor  on  his  back,  good  weapon  by  his  side, 
good  horse  between  his  knees,  and  —  rare  luxury 
in  those  penniless  though  otherwise  plentiful  days 
—  good  money  in  his  purse.  What  could  a  lad  of 
eighteen  want  more,  who  under  the  harsh  family 
rule  of  those  times  had  known  nothing  of  a  father's, 
and  but  too  little  of  a  mother's  love?  He  rode 
away  westward,  avoiding,  of  course,  Kesteven  and 
Bourne.  Through  Milton  woods  he  rode,  and 
lingered  but  one  moment,  as  he  crossed  the  King 
Street  at  Castor  Hauglands,  to  glance  up  the 
straight  Roman  road  which  led  toward  his  home. 
That  led  to  the  old  world.  He  was  going  to  the 
new ;  and  he  pricked  his  horse  gaily  on  through 
Bainton  woods,  struck  the  Ermine  Street  on  South- 
orpe  Heath,  and  so  on  toward  the  Welland,  little 
dreaming  that  on  those  open  wolds  a  palace 
would  one  day  arise,  beside  which  King  Edward's 
new  Hall  at  Westminster  would  show  but  as  a 
tything-barn ;  and  that  the  great  patriot  who  would 
build  that  palace  would  own,  as  his  birthplace, 
the  very  home  from  which  Hereward  fled  that 
day. 


60  Hereward  the  Wake 

Over  the  Welland  to  Brig  Casterton,  where  Dick 
Turpin  crossed  in  after  times,  like  him  avoiding 
Stamford  town;  and  then  up  the  Ermine  Street, 
through  primeval  glades  of  mighty  oak  and  ash, 
with  holly  and  thorn  beneath,  swarming  with 
game,  which  was  as  highly  preserved  then  as  now, 
under  Canute's  severe  forest  laws.  The  yellow  roes 
stood  and  stared  at  him  knee-deep  in  the  young 
fern ;  the  pheasant  called  his  hens  out  to  feed  in 
the  dewy  grass ;  the  blackbird  and  thrush  sang  out 
from  every  bough ;  the  wood-lark  trilled  above  the 
high  oak  tops,  and  sank  down  on  them  as  his  song 
sank  down.  And  Hereward  rode  on,  rejoicing  in  it 
all.  It  was  a  fine  world  in  the  Bruneswald.  What 
was  it  then  outside?  Not  to  him,  as  to  us,  a  world 
circular,  round,  circumscribed,  mapped,  botanized, 
zoologized ;  a  tiny  planet  about  which,  everybody 
knows,  or  thinks  they  know,  everything;  but  a 
world  infinite,  magical,  supernatural  —  because  un- 
known; a  vast  flat  plain  reaching  no  one  knew 
whence  or  where,  save  that  the  mountains  stood  on 
the  four  corners  thereof  to  keep  it  steady,  and  the 
four  winds  of  heaven  blew  out  of  them ;  and  in  the 
center,  which  was  to  him  the  Bruneswald,  such 
things  as  he  saw :  but  beyond,  things  unspeakable, 
—  dragons,  giants,  rocs,  ores,  witch-whales,  griffins, 
chimeras,  satyrs,  enchanters,  Paynims,  Saracen 
Emirs  and  Sultans,  Kaisers  of  Constantinople, 
Kaisers  of  Ind  and  of  Cathay,  and  beyond  them 
again  of  lands  as  yet  unknown.  At  the  very  least 
he  could  go  to  Brittany,  to  the  forest  of  Broche- 
liaunde,  where  (so  all  men  said)  fairies  might  be 
seen  bathing  in  the  fountains,  and  possibly  be  won 
and  wedded  by  a  bold  and  dexterous  knight,  after 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     61 

the  fashion  of  Sir  Gruelan.1  What  was  there  not 
to  be  seen  and  conquered?  Where  would  he  go? 
Where  would  he  not  go?  For  the  spirit  of 
Odin  the  Goer,  the  spirit  which  has  sent  his  chil- 
dren round  the  world,  was  strong  within  him.  He 
would  go  to  Ireland,  to  the  Ostmen,  or  Irish  Danes, 
at  Dublin,  Waterford,  or  Cork,  and  marry  some 
beautiful  Irish  Princess  with  gray  eyes,  and  raven 
locks,  and  saffron  smock,  and  great  gold  bracelets 
from  her  native  hills.  No;  he  would  go  off  to 
the  Orkneys,  and  join  Bruce  and  Ranald,  and  the 
Vikings  of  the  northern  seas,  and  all  the  hot  blood 
which  had  found  even  Norway  too  hot  to  hold  it; 
he  would  sail  through  witch-whales  and  icebergs  to 
Iceland  and  Greenland,  and  the  sunny  lands  which 
they  said  lay  even  beyond,  across  the  all  but  un- 
known ocean.  Or  he  would  go  up  the  Baltic  to 
the  Jomsburg  Vikings,  and  fight  against  Lett  and 
Esthonian  heathen,  and  pierce  inland,  perhaps, 
through  Puleyn  and  the  bison  forests,  to  the  land 
from  whence  came  the  magic  swords  and  the  old 
Persian  coins  whi  Ji  he  had  seen  so  often  in  the 
halls  of  his  forefathers.  No  ;  he  would  go  south, 
to  the  land  of  sun  and  wine ;  and  see  the  magicians 
of  Cordova  and  Seville;  and  beard  Mussulman 
hounds  worshipping  their  Mahomets ;  and  perhaps 
bring  home  an  Emir's  daughter, 

"  With  more  gay  gold  about  her  middle, 
Than  would  buy  half  Northumberlee." 

Or  he  would  go  up  the  Straits,  and  on  to  Constanti- 
nople and  the  great  Kaiser  of  the  Greeks,  and  join 

1  Wace,  author  of  the  "  Roman  de  Rou,"  went  to  Brittany  a 
generation  later,  to  see  those  same  fairies;  but  had  no  sport, 
and  sang  — 

"  Fol  i  alai,  fol  m'en  revins  ; 
Folie  quis,  por  fol  me  tins." 


62  Hereward  the  Wake 

the  Varanger  Guard,  and  perhaps,  like  Harold 
Hardraade  in  his  own  days,  after  being  cast  to  the 
lion  for  carrying  off  a  fair  Greek  lady,  tear  out  the 
monster's  tongue  with  his  own  hands,  and  show 
the  Easterns  what  a  Viking's  son  could  do.  And 
as  he  dreamed  of  the  infinite  world,  and  its  infinite 
wonders,  the  enchanters  he  might  meet,  the  jewels 
he  might  find,  the  adventures  he  might  essay,  he 
held  that  he  must  succeed  in  all,  with  hope,  and 
wit,  and  a  strong  arm ;  and  forgot  altogether  that, 
mixed  up  with  the  cosmogony  of  an  infinite  flat  plain 
called  the  earth,  there  was  joined  also  the  belief  in 
a  flat  roof  above  called  heaven,  on  which  (seen  at 
times  in  visions  through  clouds  and  stars)  sat  saints, 
angels,  and  archangels,  forevermore  harping  on 
their  golden  harps,  and  knowing  neither  vanity  nor 
vexation  of  spirit,  lust  nor  pride,  murder  nor  war ; 
and  underneath  a  floor,  the  name  whereof  was 
hell;  the  mouths  whereof  (as  all  men  knew) 
might  be  seen  on  Hecla,  Etna,  and  Stromboli ;  and 
the  fiends  heard  within,  tormenting,  amid  fire,  and 
smoke,  and  clanking  chains,  the  souls  of  the  end- 
lessly lost. 

As  he  rode  on,  slowly  though  cheerfully,  as  a 
man  who  will  not  tire  his  horse  at  the  beginning  of 
a  long  day's  journey,  and  knows  not  where  he  shall 
pass  the  night,  he  was  aware  of  a  man  on  foot  com- 
ing up  behind  him  at  a  slow,  steady,  loping,  wolf- 
like  trot,  which  in  spite  of  its  slowness  gained 
ground  on  him  so  fast,  that  he  saw  at  once  that  the 
man  could  be  no  common  runner. 

The  man  came  up;  and  behold,  he  was  none 
other  than  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"What!  art  thou  here?"  asked  Hereward,  sus- 
piciously, and  half  cross  at  seeing  any  visitor  from 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     63 

the  old  world  which  he  had  just  cast  off.  "  How 
gottest  thou  out  of  St.  Peter's  last  night?  " 

Martin's  tongue  was  hanging  out  of  his  mouth 
like  a  running  hound's:  but  he  seemed,  like  a 
hound,  to  perspire  through  his  mouth;  for  he 
answered  without  the  least  sign  of  distress,  with- 
out even  pulling  in  his  tongue. 

"  Over  the  wall,  the  moment  the  prior's  back  was 
turned.  I  was  not  going  to  wait  till  I  was  chained 
up  in  some  rat's  hole  with  a  half-hundred  of  iron 
on  my  leg,  and  flogged  till  I  confessed  that  I  was 
what  I  am  not  —  a  runaway  monk." 

"  And  why  art  here  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  going  with  you." 

"Going  with  me?'  said  Hereward;  "what  can  I 
do  for  thee?" 

"  I  can  do  for  you,"  said  Martin. 

"What?" 

"  Groom  your  horse,  wash  your  shirt,  clean  your 
weapons,  find  your  inn,  fight  your  enemies,  cheat 
your  friends  —  anything  and  everything.  You  are 
going  to  see  thv.  world.  I  am  going  with  you." 

"Thou  canst  be  my  servant?  A  right  slippery 
one,  I  expect,"  said  Hereward,  looking  down  on 
him  with  some  suspicion. 

"Some  are  not  the  rogues  they  seem.  I  can 
keep  my  secrets  and  yours  too." 

"  Before  I  can  trust  thee  with  my  secrets,  I  shall 
expect  to  know  some  of  thine,"  said  Hereward. 

Martin  Lightfoot  looked  up  with  a  cunning  smile. 
"  A  man  can  always  know  his  master's  secrets  if  he 
likes.  But  that  is  no  reason  a  master  should  know 
his  man's." 

"  Thou  shalt  tell  me  thine,  man,  or  I  shall  ride 
off  and  leave  thee." 


64  Hereward  the  Wake 

"Not  so  easy,  my  lord.  Where  that  heavy 
horse  can  go,  Martin  Lightfoot  can  follow.  But  I 
will  tell  you  one  secret,  which  I  never  told  to  living 
man.  I  can  read  and  write  like  any  clerk." 

"Thou  read  and  write?" 

"  Ay,  good  Latin  enough,  and  French,  and  Irish 
too,  what  is  more.  And  now,  because  I  love  you, 
and  because  you  I  will  serve,  willy  mlly,  I  will  tell 
you  all  the  secrets  I  have,  as  long  as  my  breath  lasts, 
for  my  tongue  is  rather  stiff  after  th<*t  long  story 
about  the  bell-wether.  I  was  born  in  Ireland,  in 
Waterford  town.  My  mother  was  an  English  slave, 
one  of  those  that  Earl  Godwin's  wife  —  not  this 
one  that  is  now,  Gyda,  but  the  old  one  —  used  to 
sell  out  of  England  by  the  score,  tied  together  with 
ropes,  boys  and  girls  from  Bristol  town.1  Her 
master,  my  father  that  was  (I  shall  know  him 
again),  got  tired  of  her,  and  wanted  to  give  her 
away  to  one  of  his  kernes.  She  would  not  have 
that ;  so  he  hung  her  up  hand  and  foot,  and  beat 
her  that  she  died.  There  was  an  abbey  hard  by, 
and  the  Church  laid  on  him  a  penance  —  all  that 
they  dared  get  out  of  him  —  that  he  should  give 
me  to  the  monks,  being  then  a  seven-years'  boy. 
Well,  I  grew  up  in  that  abbey;  they  taught  me 
my  fa  fa  mi  fa ;  but  I  liked  better  conning  ballads 
and  hearing  stories  of  ghosts  and  enchanters,  such 
as  I  used  to  tell  you.  I  '11  tell  you  plenty  more 
whenever  you  're  tired.  Then  they  made  me  work ; 
and  that  I  never  could  abide  at  all.  Then  they 
beat  me  every  day;  and  that  I  could  abide  still 


i 


I  adopt  William  of  Malmesbury's  old  story,  though  there  is  no 
good  authority  for  it.  Even  if  a  calumny,  it  fits  the  mouth  of  an 
adherent  of  the  house  of  Leofric;  and  an  English  slave-trade  cer- 
tainly was  carried  on  in  those  days. 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     65 

less;  but  always  I  stuck  to  my  book,  for  one 
thing  I  saw  —  that  learning  is  power,  my  lord ; 
and  that  the  reason  why  the  monks  are  masters 
of  the  lands  is,  they  are  scholars,  and  you  righting 
men  are  none.  Then  I  fell  in  love  (as  young 
blood  will)  with  an  Irish  lass,  when  I  was  full 
seventeen  years  old;  and  when  they  found  out 
that,  they  held  me  down  on  the  floor  and  beat 
me  till  I  was  well-nigh  dead.  They  put  me  in 
prison  for  a  month ;  and  between  bread-and-water 
and  darkness  I  went  nigh  foolish.  They  let  me 
out,  thinking  I  could  do  no  more  harm  to  man  or 
lass;  and  when  I  found  out  how  profitable  folly 
was,  foolish  I  remained,  at  least  as  foolish  as  seemed 
good  to  me.  But  one  night  I  got  into  the  abbey 
church,  stole  therefrom  that  which  I  have  with 
me  now,  and  which  shall  serve  you  and  me  in 
good  stead  yet  —  out  and  away  aboard  a  ship 
among  the  buscarles,  and  off  into  the  Norway 
sea.  But  after  a  voyage  or  two,  so  it  befell,  I 
was  wrecked  in  the  Wash  by  Botulfston  Deeps, 
and  begging  my  way  inland,  met  with  your  father, 
and  took  service  with  him,  as  I  have  taken  service 
now  with  you." 

"  Now,  what  has  made  thee  take  service  with 
me?" 

"  Because  you  are  you." 

"  Give  me  none  of  thy  parables  and  dark  say- 
ings, but  speak  out  like  a  man.  What  canst  see 
in  me  that  thou  shouldst  share  an  outlaw's  fortune 
with  me?" 

"  I  had  run  away  from  a  monastery ;  so  had  you. 
I  hated  the  monks;  so  did  you.  I  liked  to  tell 
stories  —  since  I  found  good  to  shut  my  mouth  1 

Vol.  12— D 


66  Hereward  the  Wake 

tell  them  to  myself  all  day  long,  sometimes  all 
night  too.  When  I  found  out  you  liked  to  hear 
them,  I  loved  you  all  the  more.  Then  they  told 
me  not  to  speak  to  you ;  I  held  my  tongue.  I 
bided  my  time.  I  knew  you  would  be  outlawed 
some  day.  I  knew  you  would  turn  Viking  and 
kemperyman,  and  kill  giants  and  enchanters,  and 
win  yourself  honor  and  glory;  and  I  knew  I 
should  have  my  share  in  it.  I  knew  you  would 
need  me  some  day;  and  you  need  me  now,  and 
here  I  am ;  and  if  you  try  to  cut  me  down  with 
your  sword,  I  will  dodge  you,  and  follow  you,  and 
dodge  you  again,  till  I  force  you  to  let  me  be  your 
man.  I  never  loved  you  as  I  do  now.  You  let 
me  take  that  letter  safe,  like  a  true  hero.  You  let 
yourself  be  outlawed,  like  a  true  hero.  You  made 
up  your  mind  to  see  the  world,  like  a  true  hero. 
You  are  the  master  for  me,  and  with  you  I  will 
live  and  die.  And  now  I  can  talk  no  more." 

"  And  with  me  thou  shalt  live  and  die,"  said 
Hereward,  pulling  up  his  horse,  and  frankly  hold- 
ing out  his  hand  to  his  new  friend. 

Martin  Lightfoot  took  his  hand,  kissed  it,  licked 
it  almost,  as  a  dog  would  have  done.  "  I  am  your 
man,"  he  said,  "  amen ;  and  true  man  I  will  prove 
to  you,  if  you  will  prove  true  to  me."  And  he 
dropped  quietly  back  behind  Hereward's  horse,  as 
if  the  business  of  his  life  was  settled,  and  his  mind 
utterly  at  rest. 

"There  is  one  more  likeness  between  us,"  said 
Hereward,  after  a  few  minutes'  thought.  "  If  I 
have  robbed  a  church,  thou  hast  robbed  one  too. 
What  is  this  precious  spoil  which  is  to  serve  me 
and  thee  in  such  mighty  stead?" 

Martin  drew  from  inside  his  shirt  and  under  his 


How  Hereward  was  Outlawed     67 

waistband  a  small  battle-axe,  and  handed  it  up  to 
Hereward.  It  was  a  tool  the  like  of  which  in 
shape  Hereward  had  seldom  seen,  and  never  its 
equal  in  beauty.  The  handle  was  some  fifteen 
inches  long,  made  of  thick  strips  of  black  whale- 
bone, curiously  bound  with  silver,  and  butted  with 
narwhal  ivory.  This  handle  was  evidently  the 
work  of  some  cunning  Norseman  of  old.  But 
who  had  been  the  maker  of  the  blade?  It  was 
some  eight  inches  long,  with  a  sharp  edge  on  one 
side,  a  sharp  crooked  pick  on  the  other :  of  the 
finest  steel,  inlaid  with  strange  characters  in  gold, 
the  work  probably  of  some  Circassian,  Tartar,  or 
Persian;  such  a  battle-axe  as  Rustum  or  Zohrab 
may  have  wielded  in  fight  upon  the  banks  of 
Oxus  ;  one  of  those  magic  weapons,  brought,  men 
knew  not  how,  out  of  the  magic  East,  which  were 
hereditary  in  many  a  Norse  family,  and  sung  of  in 
many  a  Norse  saga. 

"Look  at  it,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot.  "There 
is  magic  in  it.  It  must  bring  us  luck.  Whoever 
holds  that  must  kill  his  man.  It  will  pick  a  lock 
of  steel.  It  will  crack  a  mail  corselet  as  a  nut- 
hatch cracks  a  nut.  It  will  hew  a  lance  in  two  at 
a  single  blow.  Devils  and  spirits  forged  it  —  I 
know  that;  Virgilius  the  Enchanter,  perhaps,  or 
Solomon  the  Great,  or  whosoever's  name  is  on  it, 
graven  there  in  letters  of  gold.  Handle  it,  feel  its 
balance ;  but  no  —  do  not  handle  it  too  much. 
There  is  a  devil  in  it,  who  would  make  you  kill 
me.  Whenever  I  play  with  it  I  long  to  kill  a 
man.  It  would  be  so  easy  —  so  easy.  Give  it  me 
back,  my  lord,  give  it  me  back,  lest  the  devil  come 
through  the  handle  into  your  palm,  and  possess 
you." 


68  Hereward  the  Wake 

Hereward  laughed,  and  gave  him  back  his 
battle-axe.  But  he  had  hardly  less  doubt  of  the 
magic  virtues  of  such  a  blade  than  had  Martin 
himself. 

"  Magical  or  not,  thou  wilt  not  have  to  hit  a 
man  twice  with  that,  Martin,  my  lad.  So  we  two 
outlaws  are  both  well  armed ;  and  having  neither 
wife  nor  child,  land  nor  beeves  to  lose,  ought  to 
be  a  match  for  any  six  honest  men  who  may  have 
a  grudge  against  us,  and  yet  have  sound  reasons 
at  home  for  running  away." 

And  so  those  two  went  northward  through  the 
green  Bruneswald,  and  northward  through  merry 
Sherwood,  and  were  not  seen  in  that  land  again 
for  many  a  year. 


CHAPTER   II 

HOW  HEREVVARD   SLEW  THE  BEAR1 

OF  Hereward's  doings  for  the  next  few  months 
naught  is  known.  He  may  very  likely  have 
joined  Siward  in  the  Scotch  war.  He  may  have 
looked,  wondering,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
upon  the  bones  of  the  old  world,  where  they 
rise  at  Dunkeld  out  of  the  Lowlands  of  the  Tay ; 
and  have  trembled  lest  the  black  crags  of 
Birnam  should  topple  on  his  head  with  all  their 
pines.  He  may  have  marched  down  from  that 
famous  leaguer  with  the  Gospatrics  and  Dolfins, 
and  the  rest  of  the  kindred  of  Crinan,  and  of 
Siward,  of  the  murdered  Duncan,  and  the  out- 

1  This  story  of  the  bear  is  likely  not  to  be  a  myth,  but  among  the 
most  authentic  of  Hereward's  famous  deeds.  So  likewise  is  the 
story  of  the  Cornish  princess,  and  of  his  deeds  in  Flanders.  For 
Richard  of  Ely,  if  I  understand  him  rightly,  says  that  he  got  his 
information  from  the  actual  MSS.  of  Leofric  of  Bourne,  Here- 
ward's mass-priest,  "  up  to  the  place  where  he  came  home 
again ;  "  and  more  wise  than  the  average  of  monk  writers,  kept  to 
"  the  crude  matter,  too  little  composite  and  ornate  by  the  care  of 
any  trained  intellect,  or  by  dialectic  and  rhetoric  enigmas."  For 
"  always  he  was  deluded  by  vain  hope,  or  from  the  beginning,  by 
folks  saying  that  in  this  place  and  that  is  a  great  book  about  the 
same  man's  deeds,"  which  book  never  appearing,  he  seems  to 
have  finished  his  work  from  popular  tradition,  leaving,  to  do  him 
justice,  the  dialectic  and  rhetorical  enigmas  to  be  added  by  the 
author  of  the  Liber  Eliensis ;  but,  like  him,  wandering  sadly  in  his 
chronology.  I  have  retained  every  detail,  I  believe,  which  he 
gives  in  the  early  part  of  his  story,  as  valuable  and  all  but  unique 
sketches  of  the  manners  of  the  eleventh  century. 


70  Hereward  the  Wake 

raged  Sibylla.  He  may  have  helped  himself  to 
bring  Birnam  Wood  to  Dunsinane,  on  the  day  of 
the  Seven  Sleepers,  and  heard  Siward,  when  his 
son  Asbiorn's  corpse  was  carried  into  camp,1  ask 
only,  "Has  he  all  his  wounds  in  front?"  He 
may  have  seen  old  Siward,  after  Macbeth's  defeat 
(not  death,  as  Shakespeare  relates  the  story),  go 
back  to  Northumbria  "  with  such  booty  as  no  man 
had  obtained  before,"  —  a  proof —  if  the  fact  be 
fact  —  that  the  Scotch  Lowlands  were  not,  in  the 
eleventh  century,  the  poor  and  barbarous  country 
which  some  have  reported  them  to  have  been. 

All  this  is  not  only  possible,  but  probable 
enough,  the  dates  considered :  the  chroniclers, 
however,  are  silent.  They  only  say  that  Hereward 
was  in  those  days  beyond  Northumberland  with 
Gilbert  of  Ghent. 

Gisebert,  Gislebert,  Gilbert,  Guibert,  Goisbricht, 
of  Ghent,2  who  afterwards  owned,  by  chance  of 
war,  many  a  fair  manor  in  Lincolnshire  and  else- 
where, was  one  of  those  valiant  Flemings  who 
settled  along  the  east  and  northeast  coast  of  Scot- 
land in  the  eleventh  century.  They  fought  with 
the  Celtic  Maolmors,  and  then  married  with  their 
daughters;  got  to  themselves  lands  by  the  title- 
deed  of  the  sword ;  and  so  became  —  the  famous 
Freskin  the  Fleming  especially  —  the  ancestors  of 
the  finest  aristocracy,  both  physically  and  intel- 

1  Shakespeare  calls  his  son  "  young  Siward."  He,  too,  was  slain 
in  the  battle  ;  but  he  was  old  Siward's  nephew. 

2  Our  English  genealogists  make  him  son  of  Baldwin  of  Mons 
and  Richilda  of  Hainault,  which  is  a  manifest  error.  Mr.  For- 
ester, in  his  learned  notes  to  Ordericus  Vitalis,  says  that  he  was 
son  of  Ralf,  the  Lord  of  Alost ;  and  confirms  the  story  that  his 
eldest  son  died  prematurely.  He  may  have  been  nevertheless  a 
near  relation  of  the  Marquis  Baldwin. 


How  Hereward  Slew  the  Bear     71 

lectually,  in  the  world.  They  had  their  connec- 
tions, moreover,  with  the  Norman  court  of  Rouen, 
through  the  Duchess  Matilda,  daughter  of  their 
old  Seigneur,  Baldwin  Marquis  of  Flanders ;  their 
connections,  too,  with  the  English  Court,  through 
Countess  Judith,  wife  of  Earl  Tosti  Godwinsson, 
another  daughter  of  Baldwin's.  Their  friendship 
was  sought,  their  enmity  feared,  far  and  wide 
throughout  the  north.  They  seem  to  have  been, 
with  the  instinct  of  true  Flemings,  civilizers,  and 
cultivators,  and  traders,  as  well  as  conquerors; 
they  were  in  those  very  days  bringing  to  order 
and  tillage  the  rich  lands  of  the  northeast,  from 
the  Firth  of  Moray  to  that  of  Forth ;  and  forming 
a  rampart  for  Scotland  against  the  invasions  of 
Sweyn,  Hardraade,  and  all  the  wild  Vikings  of  the 
northern  seas. 

Amongst  them,  in  those  days,  Gilbert  of  Ghent 
seems  to  have  been  a  notable  personage,  to  judge 
from  the  great  house  which  he  kept,  and  the 
"  milites  tyrones,"  or  squires  in  training  for  the 
honor  of  knighthood,  who  fed  at  his  table.  Where 
he  lived,  the  chroniclers  report  not.  To  them  the 
country  "  ultra  Northumbrian!,"  beyond  the  Forth, 
was  as  Russia  or  Cathay,  where 

"  Geographers  on  pathless  downs 
Put  elephants  for  want  of  towns. " 

As  indeed  it  was  to  that  French  map-maker  who, 
as  late  as  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  (not 
having  been  to  Aberdeen  or  Elgin),  leaves  all  the 
country  north  of  the  Tay  a  blank,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion :  "  Terre  inculte  et  sauvage,  habitte  par  les 
Higlanders" 

Wherever  Gilbert  lived,  however,  he  heard  that 


72  Hereward  the  Wake 

Hereward  was  outlawed,  and  sent  for  him,  says  the 
story,1  having,  it  would  seem,  some  connection 
with  his  father.  And  there  he  lived,  doubtless 
happily  enough,  fighting  Celts  and  hunting  deer, 
so  that  as  yet  the  pains  and  penalties  of  exile  did 
not  press  very  hardly  upon  him.  The  handsome, 
petulant,  good-humored  lad  had  become  in  a  few 
weeks  the  darling  of  Gilbert's  ladies,  and  the  envy 
of  all  his  knights  and  gentlemen.  Hereward  the 
singer,  harp-player,  dancer,  Hereward  the  rider 
and  hunter,  was  in  all  mouths :  but  he  himself  was 
discontented  at  having  as  yet  fallen  in  with  no  ad- 
venture worthy  of  a  man ;  and  he  looked  curiously 
and  longingly  at  the  menagerie  of  wild  beasts  en- 
closed in  strong  wooden  cages,  which  Gilbert  kept 
in  one  corner  of  the  great  courtyard,  not  for  any 
scientific  purposes,  but  to  try  with  them,  at  Christ- 
mas, Easter,  and  Whitsuntide,  the  mettle  of  the 
young  gentlemen  who  were  candidates  for  the  honor 
of  knighthood.  But,  after  looking  over  the  bulls  and 
stags,  wolves  and  bears,  Hereward  settled  it  in  his 
mind  that  there  was  none  worthy  of  his  steel,  save 
one  huge  white  bear,  whom  no  man  had  yet  dared 
to  face,  and  whom  Hereward,  indeed,  had  never 
seen,  hidden  as  he  was  all  day  within  the  old  oven- 
shaped  Pict's  house  of  stone,  which  had  been 
turned  into  his  den.  There  was  a  mystery  about 
the  uncanny  brute  which  charmed  Hereward.  He 
was  said  to  be  half-human,  perhaps  wholly  human ; 
to  be  a  £on  of  the  Fairy  Bear,  near  kinsman,  if  not 
brother,  uncle,  or  cousin,  of  Siward  Digre  himself. 

1  Richard  of  Ely  gives  as  the  reason  —  "  pro  illo  misit :  filiolus 
enim  erat  divitis  illius."  "  Filiolus  "  may  be  presumed  to  mean 
godson  in  the  vocabulary  of  that  good  monk  :  but  it  is  not  clear 
of  whom  he  speaks  as  "  dives  ille."  Possibly  Gilbert  of  Ghent  was 
godson  of  Hereward's  father. 


How  Hereward  Slew  the  Bear     73 

He  had,  like  his  fairy  father,  iron  claws ;  he  had 
human  intellect,  and  understood  human  speech, 
and  the  arts  of  war,  —  at  least  so  all  in  the  place 
believed,  and  not  as  absurdly  as  at  first  sight 
seems. 

For  the  brown  bear,  and  much  more  the  white, 
was,  among  the  Northern  nations,  in  himself  a 
creature  magical  and  superhuman.  "  He  is  God's 
dog,"  whispered  the  Lapp,  and  called  him  "the 
old  man  in  the  fur  cloak,"  afraid  to  use  his  right 
name,  even  inside  the  tent,  for  fear  of  his  overhear- 
ing and  avenging  the  insult.  "  He  has  twelve  men's 
strength,  and  eleven  men's  wit,"  sang  the  Norse- 
man, and  prided  himself  accordingly,  like  a  true 
Norseman,  on  outwitting  and  slaying  the  enchanted 
monster. 

Terrible  was  the  brown  bear :  but  more  terrible 
"the  white  sea-deer,"  as  the  Saxons  called  him; 
the  hound  of  Hrymir,  the  whale's  bane,  the  seal's 
dread,  the  rider  of  the  iceberg,  the  sailor  of  the 
floe,  who  ranged  for  his  prey  under  the  six 
months'  night,  lighted  by  Surtur's  fires,  even  to  the 
gates  of  Muspelheim.  To  slay  him  was  a  feat 
worthy  of  Beowulf 's  self;  and  the  greatest  wonder, 
perhaps,  among  all  the  wealth  of  Crowland,  was 
the  twelve  white  bear-skins  which  lay  before  the 
altars,  the  gift  of  the  great  Canute.  How  Gilbert 
had  obtained  his  white  bear,  and  why  he  kept  him 
there  in  durance  vile,  was  a  mystery  over  which 
men  shook  their  heads.  Again  and  again  Here- 
ward  asked  his  host  to  let  him  try  his  strength 
against  the  monster  of  the  North.  Again  and 
again  the  shrieks  of  the  ladies,  and  Gilbert's  own 
pity  for  the  stripling  youth,  brought  a  refusal.  But 
Hereward  settled  it  in  his  heart,  nevertheless,  that 


74  Hereward  the  Wake 

somehow  or  other,  when  Christmas  time  came 
round,  he  would  extract  from  Gilbert,  drunk  or 
sober,  leave  to  fight  that  bear;  and  then  either 
make  himself  a  name,  or  die  like  a  man. 

Meanwhile  Hereward  made  a  friend.  Among  all 
the  ladies  of  Gilbert's  household,  however  kind 
they  were  inclined  to  be  to  him,  he  took  a  fancy 
only  to  one  —  a  little  girl  of  ten  years  old.  Alftruda 
was  her  name.  He  liked  to  amuse  himself  with  this 
child,  without,  as  he  fancied,  any  danger  of  falling 
in  love ;  for  already  his  dreams  of  love  were  of  the 
highest  and  most  fantastic ;  and  an  Emir's  daugh- 
ter, or  a  Princess  of  Constantinople,  was  the  very 
lowest  game  at  which  he  meant  to  fly.  Alftruda 
was  beautiful,  too,  exceedingly,  and  precocious, 
and,  it  may  be,  vain  enough  to  repay  his  attentions 
in  good  earnest.  Moreover  she  was  English,  as 
he  was,  and  royal  likewise ;  a  relation  of  Elfgiva, 
daughter  of  Ethelred,  once  King  of  England.  She, 
as  all  know,  married  Uchtred,  prince  of  Northum- 
berland, the  grandfather  of  Gospatrick,  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  and  ancestor  of  all  the  Dunbars.1 
Between  the  English  lad  then  and  the  English 
maiden  grew  up  in  a  few  weeks  an  innocent 
friendship,  which  had  almost  become  more  than 
friendship,  through  the  intervention  of  the  Fairy 
Bear. 

For  as  Hereward  was  coming  in  one  afternoon 
from  hunting,  hawk  on  fist,  with  Martin  Lightfoot 
trotting  behind,  crane  and  heron,  duck  and  hare, 
slung  over  his  shoulder,  on  reaching  the  courtyard 
gates,  he  was  aware  of  screams  and  shouts  within, 
tumult  and  terror  among  man  and  beast.  Here- 
ward tried  to  force  his  horse  in  at  the  gate.  The 

1  See  note  at  end  of  chapter. 


How  Hereward  Slew  the  Bear     75 

beast  stopped  and  turned,  snorting  with  fear ;  and 
no  wonder ;  for  in  the  midst  of  the  courtyard  stood 
the  Fairy  Bear ;  his  white  mane  bristled  up  till  he 
seemed  twice  as  big  as  any  of  the  sober  brown 
bears  which  Hereward  yet  had  seen:  his  long 
snake  neck  and  cruel  visage  wreathing  about  in 
search  of  prey.  A  dead  horse,  its  back  broken 
by  a  single  blow  of  the  paw,  and  two  or  three 
writhing  dogs,  showed  that  the  beast  had  turned 
(like  too  many  of  his  human  kindred  in  those 
days)  "  Berserker."  The  courtyard  was  utterly 
empty:  but  from  the  ladies'  bower  came  shrieks 
and  shouts,  not  only  of  women  but  of  men ;  and 
knocking  at  the  bower  door,  adding  her  screams 
to  those  inside,  was  a  little  white  figure,  which 
Hereward  recognized  as  Alftruda's.  They  had 
barricaded  themselves  inside,  leaving  the  child 
out;  and  now  dared  not  open  the  door,  as  the 
bear  swung  and  rolled  towards  it,  looking  savagely 
right  and  left  for  a  fresh  victim. 

Hereward  leaped  from  his  horse,  and  drawing 
his  sword,  rushed  forward  with  a  shout  which 
made  the  bear  turn  round. 

He  looked  once  back  at  the  child ;  then  round 
again  at  Hereward:  and  making  up  his  mind  to 
take  the  largest  morsel  first,  made  straight  at  him 
with  a  growl  which  there  was  no  mistaking. 

He  was  within  two  paces ;  then  he  rose  on  his 
hind  legs,  a  head  and  shoulders  taller  than  Here- 
ward, and  lifted  the  iron  talons  high  in  air.  Here- 
ward knew  that  there  was  but  one  spot  at  which  to 
strike ;  and  he  struck  true  and  strong,  before  the 
iron  paw  could  fall,  right  on  the  muzzle  of  the 
monster. 

He  heard  the  dull  crash  of  the  steel ;  he  felt  the 


76  Hereward  the  Wake 

sword  jammed  tight.  He  shut  his  eyes  for  an  in- 
stant, fearing  lest,  as  in  dreams,  his  blow  had  come 
to  naught;  lest  his  sword  had  turned  aside,  or 
melted  like  water  in  his  hand,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment would  find  him  crushed  to  earth,  blinded  and 
stunned.  Something  tugged  at  his  sword.  He 
opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  huge  carcase  bend, 
reel,  roll  slowly  over  to  one  side,  dead,  tearing  out 
of  his  hand  the  sword  which  was  firmly  fixed  in 
the  skull. 

Hereward  stood  awhile  staring  at  the  beast  like 
a  man  astonied  at  what  he  himself  had  done.  He 
had  had  his  first  adventure,  and  he  had  conquered. 
He  was  now  a  champion  in  his  own  right  —  a  hero 
of  the  heroes  —  one  who  might  take  rank,  if  he 
went  on,  beside  Beowulf,  Frotho,  Ragnar  Lodbrog, 
or  Harald  Hardraade.  He  had  done  this  deed. 
What  was  there  after  this  which  he  might  not  do? 
And  he  stood  there  in  the  fulness  of  his  pride, 
defiant  of  earth  and  heaven,  while  in  his  heart 
arose  the  thought  of  that  old  Viking  who  cried, 
in  the  pride  of  his  godlessness,  "  I  never  on  earth 
met  him  whom  I  feared,  and  why  should  I  fear 
him  in  heaven?  If  I  met  Odin  I  would  fight  with 
Odin.  If  Odin  were  the  stronger  he  would  slay 
me :  if  I  were  the  stronger  I  would  slay  him." 
There  he  stood,  staring,  and  dreaming  over  re- 
nown to  come,  a  true  pattern  of  the  half-savage 
hero  of  those  rough  times,  capable  of  all  vices 
except  cowardice,  and  capable,  too,  of  all  virtues 
save  humility. 

"  Do  you  not  see,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot's  voice, 
close  by,  "  that  there  is  a  fair  lady  trying  to  thank 
you,  while  you  are  so  rude  or  so  proud  that  you 
will  not  vouchsafe  her  one  look?" 


How  Hereward  Slew  the  Bear     77 

It  was  true.  Little  Alftruda  had  been  clinging 
to  him  for  five  minutes  past.  He  took  the  child 
up  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  with  pure  kisses, 
which  for  a  moment  softened  his  hard  heart ;  then 
setting  her  down,  he  turned  to  Martin. 

"  I  have  done  it,  Martin." 

"Yes,  you  have  done  it;  I  spied  you.  What 
will  the  old  folks  at  home  say  to  this?" 

"  What  care  I  ?  " 

Martin  Lightfoot  shook  his  head,  and  drew  out 
his  knife. 

"  What  is  that  for?  "  said  Hereward. 

"  When  the  master  kills  the  game,  the  knave  can 
but  skin  it.  We  may  sleep  warm  under  this  fur  in 
many  a  cold  night  by  sea  and  moor." 

"Nay,"  said  Hereward,  laughing;  "when  the 
master  kills  the  game,  he  must  first  carry  it  home. 
Let  us  take  him  and  set  him  up  against  the  bower 
door  there,  to  astonish  the  brave  knights  inside." 
And  stooping  down,  he  attempted  to  lift  the  huge 
carcase :  but  in  vain.  At  last,  with  Martin's  help, 
he  got  it  fairly  on  his  shoulders,  and  the  two 
dragged  their  burden  to  the  bower,  and  dashed 
it  against  the  door,  shouting  with  all  their  might 
to  those  within  to  open  it. 

Windows,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  in  those 
days  so  few  and  far  between,  that  the  folks  inside 
had  remained  quite  unaware  of  what  was  going  on 
without. 

The  door  was  opened  cautiously  enough;  and 
out  looked,  to  the  shame  of  knighthood  be  it  said, 
two  or  three  knights  who  had  taken  shelter  in  the 
bower  with  the  ladies.  Whatever  they  were  going 
to  say  the  ladies  forestalled,  for,  rushing  out  across 
the  prostrate  bear,  they  overwhelmed  Hereward 


78  Hereward  the  Wake 

with  praises,  thanks,  and,  after  the  straightforward 
custom  of  those  days,  with  substantial  kisses. 

"You  must  be  knighted  at  once,"  cried  they. 
"  You  have  knighted  yourself  by  that  single 
blow." 

"  A  pity  then,"  said  one  of  the  knights  to  the 
others,  "  that  he  had  not  given  that  accolade  to 
himself,  instead  of  to  the  bear." 

"  Unless  some  means  are  found,"  said  another, 
"  of  taking  down  this  boy's  conceit,  life  will  soon 
be  not  worth  having  here." 

"  Either  he  must  take  ship,"  said  a  third,  "  and 
look  for  adventures  elsewhere,  or  I  must." 

Martin  Lightfoot  heard  those  words ;  and  know- 
ing that  envy  and  hatred,  like  all  other  vices  in 
those  rough-hewn  times,  were  apt  to  take  very 
startling  and  unmistakable  shapes,  kept  his  eye 
accordingly  on  those  three  knights. 

"  He  must  be  knighted  —  he  shall  be  knighted, 
as  soon  as  Sir  Gilbert  comes  home,"  said  all  the 
ladies  in  chorus. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  th;nk,"  said  Hereward, 
with  the  blundering  mock  humility  of  a  self- 
conceited  boy,  "  that  I  had  done  anything  worthy 
of  such  an  honor.  I  hope  to  win  my  spurs  by 
greater  feats  than  these." 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  knights  and  gentle- 
men followed. 

"  How  loud  the  young  cockerel  crows  after  his 
first  scuffle !  " 

"  Hark  to  him  !  What  will  he  do  next?  Eat  a 
dragon  ?  Fly  to  the  moon  ?  Marry  the  Sophy  of 
Egypt's  daughter?" 

This  last  touched  Hereward  to  the  quick,  for  it 
was  just  what  he  thought  of  doing;  and  his  blood, 


How   Hereward  Slew  the   Bear     79 

heated  enough  already,  beat  quicker,  as  some 
one  cried,  with  the  evident  intent  of  picking  a 
quarrel  — 

"  That  was  meant  for  us.  If  the  man  who  killed 
the  bear  has  not  deserved  knighthood,  what  must 
we  have  deserved,  who  have  not  killed  him?  You 
understand  his  meaning,  gentlemen  —  do  not  for- 
get it!" 

Hereward  looked  down,  and  setting  his  foot  on 
the  bear's  head,  wrenched  out  of  it  the  sword, 
which  he  had  left  till  now,  with  pardonable  pride, 
fast  set  in  the  skull. 

Martin  Lightfoot,  for  his  part,  drew  stealthily 
from  his  bosom  the  little  magic  axe,  keeping  his 
eye  on  the  brain-pan  of  the  last  speaker. 

The  lady  of  the  house  cried  "  Shame ! " 
and  ordered  the  knights  away  with  haughty 
words  and  gestures,  which,  because  they  were 
so  well  deserved,  only  made  the  quarrel  more 
deadly. 

Then  she  commanded  Hereward  to  sheathe  his 
sword. 

He  did  so;  and,  turning  to  the  knights,  said 
with  all  courtesy :  "  You  mistake  me,  sirs.  You 
were  where  brave  knights  should  be,  within  the 
beleaguered  fortress,  defending  the  ladies.  Had 
you  remained  outside,  and  been  eaten  by  the 
bear,  what  must  have  befallen  them,  had  he  burst 
open  the  door?  As  for  this  little  lass,  whom  you 
left  outside,  she  is  too  young  to  requite  knight's 
prowess  by  lady's  love;  and  therefore  beneath 
your  attention,  and  only  fit  for  the  care  of  a  boy 
like  me."  And  taking  up  Alftruda  in  his  arms,  he 
carried  her  in  and  disappeared. 

Who  now  but  Hereward  was  in  all  men's  mouths  ? 
The  minstrels  made  ballads  on  him;  the  lasses 


80  Hereward  the  Wake 

sang  his  praises  (says  the  chronicler)  as  they 
danced  upon  the  green.  Gilbert's  lady  would 
need  give  him  the  seat,  and  all  the  honors,  of  a 
belted  knight,  though  knight  he  was  none.  And 
daily  and  weekly  the  valiant  lad  grew  and  hardened 
into  a  valiant  man,  and  a  courteous  one  withal,  giv- 
ing no  offence  himself,  and  not  over  ready  to  take 
offence  at  other  men. 

The  knights  were  civil  enough  to  him,  the  ladies 
more  than  civil ;  he  hunted,  he  wrestled,  he  tilted ; 
he  was  promised  a  chance  of  fighting  for  glory,  as 
soon  as  a  Highland  chief  should  declare  war 
against  Gilbert,  or  drive  off  his  cattle  —  an  event 
which  (and  small  blame  to  the  Highland  chiefs) 
happened  every  six  months. 

No  one  was  so  well  content  with  himself  as 
Hereward;  and  therefore  he  fancied  that  the 
world  must  be  equally  content  with  him ;  and  he 
was  much  disconcerted  when  Martin  drew  him 
aside  one  day,  and  whispered  — 

"  If  I  were  my  lord,  I  should  wear  a  mail  shirt 
under  my  coat  to-morrow  out  hunting." 

"What?" 

"  The  arrow  that  can  go  through  a  deer's  blade- 
bone  can  go  through  a  man's." 

"  Who  should  harm  me?  " 

"  Any  man  of  the  dozen  who  eat  at  the  same 
table." 

"  What  have  I  done  to  them?  If  I  had  my  laugh 
at  them,  they  had  their  laugh  at  me ;  and  we  are 
quits." 

"There  is  another  score,  my  lord,  which  you 
have  forgotten,  and  that  is  ajl  on  your  side." 

"Eh?" 

"  You  killed  the  bear.     Do  you  expect  them  to 


How   Herewatd  Slew  the  Bear     81 

forgive  you  that,  till  they  have  repaid  you  with 
interest?" 

"  Pish !  " 

"  You  do  not  want  for  wit,  my  lord.  Use  it,  and 
think.  What  right  has  a  little  boy  like  you  to  come 
here,  killing  bears  which  grown  men  cannot  kill  ? 
What  can  you  expect  but  just  punishment  for  your 
insolence  —  say,  a  lance  between  your  shoulders 
while  you  stoop  to  drink,  as  Siegfried  had  for  daring 
to  tame  Brunhild?  And  more,  what  right  have 
you  to  come  here,  and  so  win  the  hearts  of  the 
ladies,  that  the  lady  of  all  the  ladies  should  say, 
'  If  aught  happen  to  my  poor  boy  —  and  he  can- 
not live  long  —  I  would  adopt  Hereward  for  my 
own  son,  and  show  his  mother  what  a  fool  some 
folks  think  her.'  So,  my  lord,  put  on  your  mail 
shirt  to-morrow,  and  take  care  of  narrow  ways 
and  sharp  corners.  For  to-morrow  it  will  be  tried, 
that  I  know,  before  my  lord  Gilbert  comes  back 
from  the  Highlands:  but  by  whom,  I  know  not, 
and  care  little,  seeing  that  there  are  half-a-dozen 
in  the  house  who  would  be  glad  enough  of  the 
chance." 

Hereward  took  his  advice,  and  rode  out  with 
three  or  four  knights  the  next  morning  into  the 
fir-forest ;  not  afraid,  but  angry  and  sad.  He  was 
not  yet  old  enough  to  estimate  the  virulence  of 
envy;  to  take  ingratitude  and  treachery  for 
granted.  He  was  to  learn  the  lesson  then,  as  a 
wholesome  chastener  to  the  pride  of  success.  He 
was  to  learn  it  again  in  later  years,  as  an  additional 
bitterness  in  the  humiliation  of  defeat;  and  find 
out  that  if  a  man  once  fall,  or  seem  to  fall,  a  hun- 
dred curs  spring  up  to  bark  at  him,  who  dared  not 
ooen  their  mouths  while  he  was  on  his  legs. 


82  Hereward  the  Wake 

So  they  rode  into  the  forest,  and  parted,  each 
with  his  footman  and  his  dogs,  in  search  of  boar 
and  deer ;  and  each  had  his  sport  without  meeting 
again  for  some  two  hours  or  more. 

Hereward  and  Martin  came  at  last  to  a  narrow 
gully,  a  murderous  place  enough.  Huge  fir-trees 
roofed  it  in,  and  made  a  night  of  noon.  High  banks 
of  earth  and  great  boulders  walled  it  in  right  and 
left  for  twenty  feet  above.  The  track,  what  with 
packhorses'  feet,  and  what  with  the  wear  and  tear 
of  five  hundred  years'  rainfall,  was  a  rut  three  feet 
deep  and  two  feet  broad,  in  which  no  horse  could 
turn.  Any  other  day  Hereward  would  have  can- 
tered down  it  with  merely  a  tightened  rein.  To- 
day he  turned  to  Martin,  and  said,  — 

"A  very  fit  and  proper  place  for  this  same 
treason :  unless  thou  hast  been  drinking  beer  and 
thinking  beer." 

But  Martin  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

A  pebble  thrown  from  the  right  bank  struck 
him,  and  he  looked  up.  Martin's  face  was  peering 
through  the  heather  overhead,  his  finger  on  his 
lips.  Then  he  pointed  cautiously,  first  up  the  pass, 
then  down. 

Hereward  felt  that  his  sword  was  loose  in  the 
sheath,  and  then  griped  his  lance,  with  a  heart 
beating,  but  not  with  fear. 

The  next  moment  he  heard  the  rattle  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  behind  him ;  looked  back,  and  saw  a  knight 
charging  desperately  down  the  gully,  his  bow  in 
hand,  and  arrow  drawn  to  the  head. 

To  turn  was  impossible.  To  stop,  even  to  walk 
on,  was  to  be  ridden  over  and  hurled  to  the  ground 
helplessly.  To  gain  the  mouth  of  the  gully,  and 
then  turn  on  his  pursuer,  was  his  only  chance. 


How   Hereward  Slew  the  Bear     83 

For  the  first  and  almost  the  last  time  in  his  life,  he 
struck  spurs  into  his  horse,  and  ran  away.  As  he 
went,  an  arrow  struck  him  sharply  in  the  back, 
piercing  the  corselet,  but  hardly  entering  the  flesh. 
As  he  neared  the  mouth,  two  other  knights  crashed 
their  horses  through  the  brushwood  from  right  and 
left,  and  stood  awaiting  him,  their  spears  ready  to 
strike.  He  was  caught  in  a  trap.  A  shield  might 
have  saved  him ;  but  he  had  none. 

He  did  not  flinch.  Dropping  his  reins,  and  driv- 
ing in  the  spurs  once  more,  he  met  them  in  full 
shock.  With  his  left  hand  he  thrust  aside  the  left- 
hand  lance,  with  his  right  he  hurled  his  own  with 
all  his  force  at  the  right-hand  foe,  and  saw  it  pass 
clean  through  the  felon's  chest,  while  his  lance- 
point  dropped,  and  passed  harmlessly. 

So  much  for  lances  in  front.  But  the  knight  be- 
hind ?  Would  not  his  sword  the  next  moment  be 
through  his  brain? 

There  was  a  clatter,  a  crash,  and  looking  back, 
Hereward  saw  horse  and  man  rolling  in  the  rut,  and 
rolling  with  them  Martin  Lightfoot  He  had  al- 
ready pinned  the  knight's  head  against  the  steep 
bank,  and,  with  uplifted  axe,  was  meditating  a  pick 
at  his  face  which  would  have  stopped  alike  his  love- 
making  and  his  fighting. 

"  Hold  thy  hand,"  shouted  Hereward.  "  Let  us 
see  who  he  is ;  and  remember  that  he  is  at  least  a 
knight." 

"  But  one  that  will  ride  no  more  to-day.  I  fin- 
ished his  horse's  going  as  I  rolled  down  the  bank." 

It  was  true.  He  had  broken  the  poor  beast's 
leg  with  a  blow  of  the  axe,  and  they  had  to  kill  the 
horse  out  of  pity  ere  they  left. 

Martin  dragged  his  prisoner  forward. 


84  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  You  ?  "  cried  Hereward.  "  And  I  saved  your 
life  three  days  ago  !  " 

The  knight  answered  nothing. 

"You  will  have  to  walk  home.  Let  that  be 
punishment  enough  for  you."  And  he  turned. 

"  He  will  have  to  ride  in  a  woodman's  cart,  if  he 
have  the  luck  to  find  one." 

The  third  knight  had  fled,  and  after  him  the  dead 
man's  horse.  Hereward  and  his  man  rode  home 
in  peace,  and  the  wounded  man,  after  trying  vainly 
to  walk  a  mile  or  two,  fell  and  lay,  and  was  fain  to 
fulfil  Martin's  prophecy,  and  be  brought  home  in 
a  cart,  to  carry  for  years  after,  like  Sir  Lancelot, 
the  nickname  of  the  Chevalier  de  la  Charette. 

And  so  was  Hereward  avenged  of  his  enemies ; 
and  began  to  win  for  himself  the  famous  sobri- 
quet of  "  Wake ;  "  the  Watcher,  whom  no  man  ever 
took  unawares.  Judicial,  even  private,  inquiry  into 
the  matter  there  was  none.  That  gentlemen  should 
meet  in  the  forest,  try  to  commit  murder  on  each 
other's  bodies,  was  rather  too  common  a  mishap  to 
stir  up  more  than  an  extra  gossiping  among  the 
women,  and  an  extra  cursing  among  the  men ;  and 
as  the  former  were  all  on  Hereward's  side,  his  plain 
story  was  taken  as  it  stood. 

"  And  now,  fair  lady,"  said  Hereward  to  his 
hostess,  "  I  must  thank  you  for  your  hospitality, 
and  bid  you  farewell  for  ever  and  a  day." 

She  wept,  and  entreated  him  only  to  stay  till  her 
lord  came  back :  but  Hereward  was  firm. 

"  You,  lady,  and  your  good  lord  will  I  ever  love ; 
and  at  your  service  my  sword  shall  ever  be :  but 
not  here.  Ill  blood  I  will  not  make.  Among  traitors 
I  will  not  dwell.  I  have  killed  two  of  them,  and 
shall  have  to  kill  two  of  their  kinsmen  next,  and 


How  Hereward  Slew  the  Bear     85 

then  two  more,  till  you  have  no  knights  left; 
and  pity  that  would  be.  No ;  the  world  is  wide, 
and  there  are  plenty  of  good  fellows  in  it  who  will 
welcome  me  without  forcing  me  to  wear  mail 
under  my  coat  out  hunting." 

And  he  armed  himself  cap-a-pie,  and  rode  away. 
Great  was  the  weeping  in  the  bower,  and  great  the 
chuckling  in  the  hall :  but  never  saw  they  Hereward 
again  upon  the  Scottish  shore. 


NOTE 

I  insert  on  the  following  page  the  pedigree  of  Gospatric 
and  the  Dunbars,  with  many  thanks  to  the  gallant  Dunbar 
to  whom  I  owe  the  greater  part  thereof.  It  illustrates  that 
connection  between  the  royal  houses  of  Scotland  and  of 
England  which  influenced  so  much  the  course  of  the  Nor- 
man Conquest.  The  singular  name  Gospatric,  or  Cospatric, 
is,  it  should  be  remembered,  remarkable,  as  perhaps  the 
earliest  instance  of  an  hereditary  name.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  Scottish  antiquaries  can  as  yet  throw  no  light  on  its 
etymology. 


86 


Hereward  the  Wake 


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HOW   HEREWARD   SUCCORED  A  PRINCESS  OF 
CORNWALL 


next  place  in  which  Hereward  appeared 
_l  was  far  away  on  the  southwest,  upon  the  Cor- 
nish shore.  He  went  into  port  on  board  a  merchant 
ship  carrying  wine,  and  intending  to  bring  back  tin. 
The  merchants  had  told  him  of  one"Alef,'a  a 
valiant  "  regulus,"  or  kinglet,  living  at  Gweek, 
up  the  Helford  River,  who  was  indeed  a  distant 
connection  of  Hereward  himself,  having  married, 
as  did  so  many  of  the  Celtic  princes,  the  daughter 
of  a  Danish  sea-rover  of  Siward's  blood.  They 
told  him  also  that  the  kinglet  increased  his  wealth, 
not  only  by  the  sale  of  tin  and  of  red  cattle,  but  by 
a  certain  amount  of"  Summerleding  "  (i.  e.  piracy 
between  seed-time  and  harvest)  in  company  with 
his  Danish  brothers-in-law  from  Dublin  and  Water- 
ford  ;  and  Hereward,  who  believed  with  most  Eng- 
lishmen of  the  East  Country,  that  Cornwall  still 
produced  a  fair  crop  of  giants,  some  of  them  with 
two  and  even  three  heads,  had  hopes  that  Alef 
might  show  him  some  adventure  worthy  of  his 
sword.  He  sailed  in,  therefore,  over  a  rolling  bar, 

1  Probably  a  corruption  of  the  Norse  name  Olaf.  There  is 
much  Norse  blood  in  the  seaports  of  Cornwall  and  Devon,  as 
the  surnames  testify. 


88  Hereward  the  Wake 

between  jagged  points  of  black  rock,  and  up  a 
tide  river  which  wandered  and  branched  away  inland 
like  a  landlocked  lake,  between  high  green  walls 
of  oak  and  ash,  till  they  saw  at  the  head  of  the 
tide  Alefs  town,  nestling  in  a  glen  which  sloped 
towards  the  southern  sun.  They  discovered,  be- 
sides, two  ships  drawn  up  upon  the  beach,  whose 
long  lines  and  snake-heads,  beside  the  stoat  carved 
on  the  beak-head  of  one,  and  the  adder  on  that  of 
the  other,  bore  witness  to  the  piratical  habits  of 
their  owner.  The  merchants,  it  seemed,  were  well 
known  to  the  Cornishmen  on  shore,  and  Hereward 
went  up  with  them  unopposed ;  past  the  ugly  dykes 
and  muddy  leats,  where  Alef's  slaves  were  stream- 
ing the  gravel  for  tin  ore;  through  rich  alluvial 
pastures  spotted  with  red  cattle ;  and  up  to  Alef's 
town.  Earthworks  and  stockades  surrounded  a 
little  church  of  ancient  stone,  and  a  cluster  of  gran- 
ite cabins  thatched  with  turf,  in  which  the  slaves 
abode.  In  the  centre  of  all  a  vast  stone  barn,  with 
low  walls  and  high  sloping  roof,  contained  Alefs 
family,  treasures,  housecarles,  horses,  cattle,  and 
pigs.  They  entered  at  one  end  between  the 
pigsties,  passed  on  through  the  cow-stalls,  then 
through  the  stables;  till  they  saw  before  them, 
dim  through  the  reek  of  peat-smoke,  a  long  oaken 
table,  at  which  sat  huge  dark-haired  Cornishmen, 
with  here  and  there  among  them  the  yellow  head 
of  a  Norseman,  who  were  Alef's  following  of  fight- 
ing men.  Boiled  meat  was  there  in  plenty ;  barley 
cakes  and  ale.  At  the  head  of  the  table,  on  a 
high-backed  settle,  was  Alef  himself,  a  jolly  giant, 
who  was  just  setting  to  work  to  drink  himself 
stupid  with  mead  made  from  narcotic  heather 
honey.  By  his  side  sat  a  lovely  dark-haired  girl, 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess     89 

with  great  gold  tores  upon  her  throat  and  wrists, 
and  a  great  gold  brooch  fastening  a  shawl  which 
had  plainly  come  from  the  looms  of  Spain  or  of 
the  East ;  and  next  to  her  again,  feeding  her  with 
tit-bits  cut  off  with  his  own  dagger,  and  laid  on 
barley  cake  instead  of  a  plate,  sat  a  more  gigantic 
personage  even  than  Alef,  the  biggest  man  that 
Hereward  had  ever  seen,  with  high  cheek  bones 
and  small  ferret  eyes,  looking  out  from  a  greasy 
mass  of  bright  red  hair  and  beard. 

No  questions  were  asked  of  the  new-comers. 
They  set  themselves  down  in  silence  in  empty 
places,  and  according  to  the  laws  of  the  good  old 
Cornish  hospitality,  were  allowed  to  eat  and  drink 
their  fill  before  they  spoke  a  word. 

"  Welcome  here  again,  friend,"  said  Alef  at  last, 
in  good  enough  Danish,  calling  the  eldest  mer- 
chant by  name.  "  Do  you  bring  wine?  " 

The  merchant  nodded. 

"  And  you  want  tin?  " 

The  merchant  nodded  again,  and  lifting  his  cup 
drank  Alef's  health,  following  it  up  by  a  coarse 
joke  in  Cornish,  which  raised  a  laugh  all  round 

The  Norse  trader  of  those  days,  it  must  be 
remembered,  was  none  of  the  cringing  and  effemi- 
nate chapmen  who  figure  in  the  stories  of  the 
middle  ages.  A  free  Norse  or  Dane,  himself  often 
of  noble  blood,  he  fought  as  willingly  as  he 
bought ;  and  held  his  own  as  an  equal,  whether  at 
the  court  of  a  Cornish  kinglet,  or  at  that  of  the 
great  Kaiser  of  the  Greeks. 

"  And  you,  fair  sir,"  said  Alef,  looking  keenly 
at  Hereward,  "  by  what  name  shall  I  call  you,  and 
what  service  can  I  do  for  you  ?  You  look  more 
like  an  earl's  son  than  a  merchant,  and  are  come 
here  surely  for  other  things  besides  tin." 

Vol.  12— E 


90  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  Health  to  King  Alef,"  said  Hereward,  raising 
the  cup.  "  Who  I  am  I  will  tell  to  none  but  Alef 's 
self:  but  an  earl's  son  I  am,  though  an  outlaw  and 
a  rover.  My  lands  are  the  breadth  of  my  boot 
sole.  My  plough  is  my  sword.  My  treasure  is 
my  good  right  hand.  Nothing  I  have,  and  noth- 
ing I  need,  save  to  serve  noble  kings  and  earls, 
and  win  me  a  champion's  fame.  If  you  have 
battles  to  fight,  tell  me ;  that  I  may  fight  them  for 
you.  If  you  have  none,  thank  God  for  His  peace; 
and  let  me  eat  and  drink  and  go  in  peace." 

"  King  Alef  needs  neither  man  nor  boy  to  fight 
his  battle  as  long  as  Ironhook 1  sits  in  his  hall." 

It  was  the  red-bearded  giant,  who  spoke  in  a 
broken  tongue,  part  Scotch,  part  Cornish,  part 
Danish,  which  Hereward  could  hardly  understand : 
but  that  the  ogre  intended  to  insult  him  he  under- 
stood well  enough. 

Hereward  had  hoped  to  find  giants  in  Cornwall ; 
and  behold  he  had  found  one  at  once;  though 
rather,  to  judge  from  his  looks,  a  Pictish  than  a 
Cornish  giant ;  and  true  to  his  reckless  determina- 
tion to  defy  and  fight  every  man  and  beast  who 
was  willing  to  defy  and  fight  him,  he  turned  on  his 
elbow  and  stared  at  Ironhook  in  scorn,  meditating 
some  speech,  which  might  provoke  the  hoped  for 
quarrel. 

As  he  did  so,  his  eye  happily  caught  that  of  the 
fair  princess.  She  was  watching  him  with  a  strange 
look,  admiring,  warning,  imploring ;  and  when  she 
saw  that  he  noticed  her,  she  laid  her  finger  on  her 
lip  in  token  of  silence,  crossed  herself  devoutly, 
and  then  laid  her  finger  on  her  lips  again,  as  if 

1  "  Ulcus  Ferreus,"  says  Richard  of  Ely ;  surely  a  misreading 
for  "uncus."  The  hook  was  a  not  uncommon  weapon  among 
eeamen. 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess    91 

beseeching  him  to  be  patient  and  silent  in  the 
name  of  the  heavenly  powers. 

Hereward,  as  is  well  seen,  wanted  not  for  quick 
wit  or  for  chivalrous  feeling.  He  had  observed 
the  rough  devotion  of  the  giant  to  the  lady.  He 
had  observed,  too,  that  she  shrank  from  it;  that 
she  turned  away  with  loathing  when  he  offered  her 
his  own  cup,  while  he  answered  by  a  dark  and 
deadly  scowl. 

Was  there  an  adventure  here?  Was  she  in 
duresse  either  from  this  Ironhook,  or  from  her 
father,  or  from  both?  Did  she  need  Hereward's 
help  ?  If  so,  she  was  so  lovely  that  he  could  not 
refuse  it.  And  on  the  chance,  he  swallowed  down 
his  high  stomach,  and  answered  blandly  enough  — 

"  One  could  see  without  eyes,  noble  sir,  that  you 
were  worth  any  ten  common  men :  but  as  every  one 
has  not  like  you  the  luck  of  so  lovely  a  lady  by 
your  side,  I  thought  that  perchance  you  might 
hand  over  some  of  your  lesser  quarrels  to  one  like 
me,  who  has  not  yet  seen  so  much  good  fighting 
as  yourself,  and  enjoy  yourself  in  pleasant  com- 
pany at  home,  as  I  should  surely  do  in  your 
place." 

The  princess  shuddered  and  turned  pale ;  then 
looked  at  Hereward  and  smiled  her  thanks.  Iron- 
hook  laughed  a  savage  laugh. 

Hereward's  jest  being  translated  into  Cornish 
for  the  benefit  of  the  company,  was  highly  ap- 
proved by  all;  and  good-humor  being  restored, 
every  man  got  drunk  save  Hereward,  who  found 
the  mead  too  sweet  and  sickening. 

After  which  those  who  could  go  to  bed,  went  to 
bed,  not  as  in  England,1  among  the  rushes  on  the 
1  Cornwall  was  not  then  considered  part  of  England. 


92  Hereward  the  Wake 

floor,  but  in  the  bunks  or  berths  of  wattle  which 
stood  two  or  three  tiers  high  along  the  wall. 

The  next  morning,  as  Hereward  went  out  to 
wash  his  face  and  hands  in  the  brook  below  (he 
being  the  only  man  in  the  house  who  did  so), 
Martin  Lightfoot  followed  him. 

"What  is  it,  Martin?  Hast  thou  had  too  much 
of  that  sweet  mead  last  night  that  thou  must  come 
out  to  cool  thy  head  too?" 

"  I  came  out  for  two  reasons  —  first  to  see  fair 
play,  in  case  that  Ironhook  should  come  to  wash 
his  ugly  visage,  and  find  you  on  all  fours  over  the 
brook — -you  understand?  And  next  to  tell  you 
what  I  heard  last  night  among  the  maids." 

"  And  what  didst  thou  hear?  " 

"  Fine  adventures,  if  we  can  but  compass  them. 
You  saw  that  lady  with  the  carrot-headed  fellow? 
I  saw  that  you  saw.  Well,  if  you  will  believe  me, 
that  man  has  no  more  gentle  blood  than  I  have. 
He  is  a  No-man's  son,  a  Pict  from  Galloway,  who 
came  down  with  a  pirate  crew,  and  has  made  him- 
self the  master  of  this  drunken  old  prince,  and  the 
darling  of  all  his  housecarles,  and  now  will  needs 
be  his  son-in-law  whether  he  will  or  not." 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  said  Hereward ;  "  but 
how  didst  thou  find  out  this?" 

"  I  went  out  and  sat  with  the  knaves  and  the 
maids,  and  listened  to  their  harp  playing  (and 
harp  they  can,  these  Cornish,  like  very  elves); 
and  then  I  too  sang  songs  and  told  them  stories, 
for  I  can  talk  their  tongue  somewhat,  till  they  all 
blessed  me  for  a  right  good  fellow.  And  then  I 
fell  to  praising  up  Ironhook  to  the  women." 

"  Praising  him  up,  man?  " 

"Ay,  just  because  I  suspected   him;    for  the 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess    93 

women  are  so  contrary  that  if  you  speak  evil  of 
a  man  they  will  surely  speak  good  of  him;  but 
if  you  will  only  speak  good  of  him,  then  you  will 
hear  all  the  evil  of  him  he  ever  has  done,  and  more 
beside.  And  this  I  heard ;  that  the  king's  daughter 
cannot  abide  him,  and  would  as  lief  marry  a  seal." 

"  One  did  not  need  to  be  told  that,"  said  Here- 
ward,  "  as  long  as  one  has  eyes  in  one's  head.  I 
will  kill  the  fellow  and  carry  her  off,  ere  four-and- 
twenty  hours  be  past." 

"  Softly,  softly,  my  young  master.  You  need  to 
be  told  something  that  your  eyes  would  not  tell 
you,  and  that  is  that  the  poor  lass  is  betrothed 
already  to  a  son  of  old  King  Ranald  the  Ostman, 
of  Waterford,  son  of  old  King  Sigtryg,  who  ruled 
there  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"  He  is  a  kinsman  of  mine,  then,"  said  Here- 
ward.  "  All  the  more  reason  that  I  should  kill 
this  ruffian." 

"  If  you  can,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"If  I  can?"  retorted  Hereward,  fiercely. 

"  Well,  well,  wilful  heart  must  have  its  way,  only 
take  my  counsel;  speak  to  the  poor  young  lady 
first,  and  see  what  she  will  tell  you,  lest  you  only 
make  bad  worse,  and  bring  down  her  father  and 
his  men  on  her  as  well  as  you." 

Hereward  agreed,  and  resolved  to  watch  his 
opportunity  of  speaking  to  the  princess. 

As  they  went  in  to  the  morning  meal  they  met 
Alef.  He  was  in  high  good-humor  with  Here- 
ward ;  and  all  the  more  so  when  Hereward  told 
him  his  name,  and  how  he  was  the  son  of  Leofric. 

"  I  will  warrant  you  are,"  he  said,  "  by  the  gray 
head  you  carry  on  green  shoulders.  No  discreeter 
man,  they  say,  in  these  isles  than  the  old  earl." 


94  Hereward  the  Wake 

"You  speak  truth,  sir,"  said  Hereward,  "though 
he  be  no  father  of  mine  now,  for  of  Leofric  it 
is  said  in  King  Edward's  court,  that  if  a  man  ask 
counsel  of  him,  it  is  as  though  he  had  asked  it  of 
the  oracles  of  God." 

"  Then  you  are  his  true  son,  young  man.  I  saw 
how  you  kept  the  peace  with  Ironhook,  and  I  owe 
you  thanks  for  it ;  for  though  he  is  my  good  friend, 
and  will  be  my  son-in-law  erelong,  yet  a  quarrel 
with  him  is  more  than  I  can  abide  just  now,  and  I 
should  not  like  to  have  seen  my  guest  and  my 
kinsman  slain  in  my  house." 

Hereward  would  have  said  that  he  thought  there 
was  no  fear  of  that;  but  he  prudently  held  his 
tongue,  and  having  an  end  to  gain,  listened  instead 
of  talking. 

"  Twenty  years  ago,  of  course,  I  could  have 

thrashed  him  as  easily  as but  now  I  am  getting 

old  and  shaky,  and  the  man  has  been  a  great  help 
in  need ;  six  kings  of  these  parts  has  he  killed  for 
me,  who  drove  off  my  cattle,  and  stopped  my  tin- 
works,  and  plundered  my  monks'  cells  too,  which 
is  worse,  while  I  was  away  sailing  the  seas ;  and  he 
is  a  right  good  fellow  at  heart,  though  he  be  a  little 
rough.  So  be  friends  with  him  as  long  as  you  stay 
here,  and  if  I  can  do  you  a  service  I  will." 

They  went  in  to  their  morning  meal,  at  which 
Hereward  resolved  to  keep  the  peace  which  he 
longed  to  break,  and,  therefore,  as  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, broke. 

For  during  the  meal  the  fair  lady,  with  no  worse 
intention  perhaps  than  that  of  teasing  her  tyrant, 
fell  to  open  praises  of  Hereward's  fair  face  and 
golden  hair,  and  being  insulted  therefor  by  the 
Ironhook,  retaliated  by  observations  about  his 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess     95 

personal  appearance,  which  were  more  common  in 
the  eleventh  century  than  they,  happily,  are  now. 
He,  to  comfort  himself,  drank  deep  of  the  French 
wine  which  had  just  been  bought  and  broached, 
and  then  went  out  into  the  courtyard,  where  in  the 
midst  of  his  admiring  fellow  ruffians  he  enacted  a 
scene  as  ludicrous  as  it  was  pitiable.  All  the  child- 
ish vanity  of  the  savage  boiled  over.  He  strutted, 
he  shouted,  he  tossed  about  his  huge  limbs,  he 
called  for  a  harper,  and  challenged  all  around  to 
dance,  sing,  leap,  fight,  do  anything  against  him ; 
meeting  with  nothing  but  admiring  silence,  he 
danced  himself  out  of  breath,  and  then  began 
boasting  once  more,  of  his  fights,  his  cruelties,  his 
butcheries,  his  impossible  escapes  and  victories; 
till  at  last,  as  luck  would  have  it,  he  espied  Here- 
ward,  and  poured  out  a  stream  of  abuse  against 
Englishmen  and  English  courage. 

"  Englishmen,"  he  said,  "  were  naught.  Had  he 
not  slain  three  of  them  himself  with  one  blow?" 

"  Of  your  mouth,  I  suppose,"  quoth  Hereward, 
who  saw  that  the  quarrel  must  come,  and  was  glad 
to  have  it  done  and  over. 

"Of  my  mouth?"  roared  Ironhook,  "of  my 
sword,  man !  " 

"  Of  your  mouth,"  said  Hereward.  "  Of  your 
brain  were  they  begotten,  of  the  breath  of  your 
mouth  they  were  born,  and  by  the  breath  of  your 
mouth  you  can  slay  them  again  as  often  as  you 
choose." 

The  joke,  as  it  has  been  handed  down  to  us  by 
the  old  chroniclers,,  seems  clumsy  enough :  but  it 
sent  the  princess,  say  they,  into  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"Were  it  not  that  my  lord  Alef  was  here," 
shouted  Ironhook,  "  I  would  kill  you  out  of  hand." 


96  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  Promise  to  fight  fair,  and  do  your  worst.  The 
more  fairly  you  fight,  the  more  honor  you  will 
win,"  said  Hereward. 

Whereupon  the  two  were  parted  for  the  while. 

Two  hours  afterwards  Hereward,  completely 
armed  with  helmet  and  mail-shirt,  sword  and 
javelin,  hurried  across  the  great  courtyard  with 
Martin  Lightfoot  at  his  heels,  towards  the  little 
church  upon  the  knoll  above.  The  two  wild  men 
entered  into  the  cool  darkness  and  saw  before  them 
by  the  light  of  a  tiny  lamp  the  crucifix  over  the 
altar,  and  beneath  it  that  which  was  then  believed 
to  be  the  body  of  Him  who  made  heaven  and 
earth.  They  stopped,  trembling  for  a  moment; 
bowed  themselves  before  that,  to  them,  perpetual 
miracle ;  and  then  hurried  on  to  a  low  doorway  to 
the  right,  inside  which  dwelt  Alef's  chaplain,  one 
of  those  good  Celtic  priests  who  were  supposed  to 
represent  a  Christianity  more  ancient  than,  and  all 
but  independent  of,  the  then  all-absorbing  Church 
of  Rome. 

The  cell  was  such  an  one  as  a  convict  would  now 
disdain  to  inhabit.  A  low  lean-to  roof;  the  slates 
and  rafters  unceiled ;  the  stone  walls  and  floor  un- 
plastered ;  ill  lighted  by  a  hand-broad  window,  un- 
glazed,  and  closed  with  a  shutter  at  night.  A  truss 
of  straw  and  a  rug,  the  priest's  bed,  lay  in  a  corner. 
The  only  other  furniture  was  a  large  oak  chest, 
containing  the  holy  vessels  and  vestments  and  a 
few  old  books.  It  stood  directly  under  the  window 
for  the  sake  of  light,  for  it  served  the  good  priest 
for  both  table  and  chair ;  and  on  it  he  was  sitting 
reading  in  his  book  at  that  minute,  the  sunshine 
and  the  wind  streaming  in  behind  his  head,  doing 
no  good  to  his  rheumatism  of  thiry  years'  standing. 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess     97 

"Is  there  a  priest  here?"  asked  Hereward, 
hurriedly. 

The  old  man  looked  up,  shook  his  head,  and 
answered  in  Cornish. 

"  Speak  to  him  in  Latin,  Martin ;  maybe  he  will 
understand  that." 

Martin  spoke.  "  My  lord  here  wants  a  priest  to 
shrive  him,  and  that  quickly.  He  is  going  to  fight 
the  great  tyrant  Ironhook,  as  you  call  him." 

"  Ironhook?"  answered  the  priest,  in  good  Latin 
enough,  "  and  he  so  young !  God  help  him,  he  is 
a  dead  man.  What  is  this  ?  A  fresh  soul  sent  to 
its  account  by  the  hands  of  that  man  of  Belial? 
Cannot  he  entreat  him;  can  he  not  make  peace, 
and  save  his  young  life?  He  is  but  a  stripling,  and 
that  man,  like  Goliath  of  old,  a  man  of  war  from  his 
youth  up." 

"  And  my  master,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot,  proudly, 
"  is  like  young  David  —  one  that  can  face  a  giant 
and  kill  him ;  for  he  has  slain,  like  David,  his  lion 
and  his  bear  ere  now.  At  least,  he  is  one  that  will 
neither  make  peace,  nor  entreat  the  face  of  living 
man.  So  shrive  him  quickly,  master  priest,  and  let 
him  be  gone  to  his  work." 

Poor  Martin  Li.ghtfoot  spoke  thus  bravely  only 
to  keep  up  his  spirits  and  his  young  lord's  —  for 
in  spite  of  his  confidence  in  Hereward's  prowess, 
he  had  given  him  up  for  a  lost  man ;  and  the  tears 
ran  down  his  rugged  cheeks,  as  the  old  priest,  ris- 
ing up  and  seizing  Hereward's  two  hands  in  his, 
besought  him,  with  the  passionate  and  graceful 
eloquence  of  his  race,  to  have  mercy  upon  his  own 
youth. 

Hereward  understood  his  meaning,  though  not 
his  words. 


98  Hereward  the  Wake 

"Tell  him,"  he  said  to  Martin,  "that  fight  I 
must,  and  tell  him  that  shrive  me  he  must  and  that 
quickly.  Tell  him  how  the  fellow  met  me  in  the 
wood  below  just  now,  and  would  have  slain  me 
there  unarmed  as  I  was;  and  how,  when  I  told 
him  it  was  a  shame  to  strike  a  naked  man,  he  told 
me  he  would  give  me  but  one  hour's  grace  to  go 
back,  on  the  faith  of  a  gentleman,  for  my  armor 
and  weapons,  and  meet  him  there  again  to  die  by 
his  hand.  So  shrive  me  quick,  sir  priest." 

Hereward  knelt  down.  Martin  Lightfoot  knelt 
down  by  him,  and  with  a  trembling  voice  began  to 
interpret  for  him. 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Hereward,  as  the 
priest  murmured  something  to  himself. 

"  He  said,"  quoth  Martin,  now  fairly  blubbering, 
"  that  fair  and  young  as  you  are,  your  shrift  should 
be  as  short  and  as  clean  as  David's." 

Hereward  was  touched.  "Anything  but  that," 
said  he,  smiting  on  his  breast.  "  Mea  culpa  —  mea 
culpa —  mea  maxima  culpa." 

"  Tell  him  how  I  robbed  my  father." 

The  priest  groaned  as  Martin  did  so. 

"  And  how  I  mocked  at  my  mother,  and  left  her 
in  a  rage,  without  ever  a  kind  word  between  us. 
And  how  I  have  slain  I  know  not  how  many  men 
in  battle,  though  that,  I  trust,  need  not  lie  heavily 
on  my  soul,  seeing  that  I  killed  them  all  in  fair 
fight." 

Again  the  priest  groaned. 

"  And  how  I  robbed  a  certain  priest  of  his 
money,  and  gave  it  away  to  my  housecarles." 

Here  the  priest  groaned  more  bitterly  still. 

"  Oh !  my  son,  my  son,  where  hast  thou  found 
time  to  lay  all  these  burdens  on  thy  young  soul?" 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess     99 

"  It  will  take  less  time,"  said  Martin,  bluntly, 
"  for  you  to  take  the  burdens  off  again." 

"But  I  dare  not  absolve  him  for  robbing  a 
priest.  Heaven  help  him !  He  must  go  to  the 
bishop  for  that.  He  is  more  fit  to  go  on  pil- 
grimage to  Jerusalem  than  to  battle." 

"  He  has  no  time,"  quoth  Martin,  "  for  bishops 
or  Jerusalem." 

"Tell  him,"  said  Hereward,  "that  in  this  purse 
is  all  I  have,  that  in  it  he  will  find  sixty  silver  pen- 
nies, beside  two  strange  coins  of  gold." 

"  Sir  priest,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot,  taking  the 
purse  from  Hereward,  and  keeping  it  in  his  own 
hand,  "there  are  in  this  bag  moneys." 

Martin  had  no  mind  to  let  the  priest  into  the 
secret  of  the  state  of  their  finances. 

"  And  tell  him,"  continued  Hereward,  "  that  if  I 
fall  in  this  battle  I  give  him  all  that  money,  that  he 
may  part  it  among  the  poor  for  the  good  of  my 
soul." 

"  Pish !  "  said  Martin  to  his  lord ;  "  that  is  pay- 
ing him  for  having  you  killed.  You  should  pay 
him  for  keeping  you  alive."  And  without  waiting 
for  the  answer,  he  spoke  in  Latin. 

"  And  if  he  comes  back  safe  from  this  battle,  he 
will  give  you  ten  pennies  for  yourself  and  your 
church,  priest,  and  therefore  expects  you  to  pray 
your  very  loudest  while  he  is  gone." 

"  I  will  pray,  I  will  pray,"  said  the  holy  man ; 
"  I  will  wrestle  in  prayer.  Ah  !  that  he  could  slay 
the  wicked,  and  reward  the  proud  according  to  his 
deservings.  Ah !  that  he  could  rid  me  and  my 
master,  and  my  young  lady,  of  this  son  of  Belial 
—  this  devourer  of  widows  and  orphans  —  this 
slayer  of  the  poor  and  needy,  who  fills  this  place 


ioo  Hereward  the  Wake 

with  innocent  blood  —  him  of  whom  it  is  written, 
'  They  stretch  forth  their  mouth  unto  the  heaven, 
and  their  tongue  goeth  through  the  world.  There^ 
fore  fall  the  people  unto  them,  and  thereout  suck 
they  no  small  advantage.'  I  will  shrive  him,  shrive 
him  of  all  save  robbing  the  priest,  and  for  that  he 
must  go  to  the  bishop,  if  he  live :  and,  if  not,  the 
Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul." 

And  so,  weeping  and  trembling,  the  good  old 
man  pronounced  the  words  of  absolution. 

Hereward  rose,  thanked  him,  and  then  hurried 
out  in  silence. 

"  You  will  pray  your  very  loudest,  priest,"  said 
Martin,  as  he  followed  his  young  lord. 

"I  will,  I  will,"  quoth  he,  and  kneeling  down 
began  to  chant  that  noble  73d  Psalm,  "  Quam 
bonus  Israel,"  which  he  had  just  so  fitly  quoted. 

"  Thou  gavest  him  the  bag,  Martin  ?  "  said  Here- 
ward, as  they  hurried  on. 

"  You  are  not  dead  yet.  '  No  pay  no  play '  is  as 
good  a  rule  for  priest  as  for  layman." 

"  Now  then,  Martin  Lightfoot,  good-bye.  Come 
not  with  me.  It  must  never  be  said,  even  slander- 
ously, that  I  brought  two  into  the  field  against 
one;  and  if  I  die,  Martin " 

"  You  won't  die !  "  said  Lightfoot,  shutting  his 
teeth. 

"  If  I  die,  go  back  to  my  people  somehow,  and 
tell  them  that  I  died  like  a  true  earl's  son." 

Hereward  held  out  his  hand ;  Martin  fell  on  his 
knees  and  kissed  it;  watched  him  with  set  teeth 
till  he  disappeared  in  the  wood ;  and  then  started 
forward  and  entered  the  bushes  at  a  different  spot. 

"  I  must  be  nigh  at  hand  to  see  fair  play,"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "in  case  any  of  his  ruffians  be 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess   101 

hanging  about.  Fair  play  I  '11  see,  and  fair  play 
I  '11  give,  too,  for  the  sake  of  my  lord's  honor, 
though  I  be  bitterly  loath  to  do  it.  So  many  times 
as  I  have  been  a  villain  when  it  was  of  no  use,  why 
may  n't  I  be  one  now,  when  it  would  serve  the 
purpose  indeed?  Why  did  we  ever  come  into 
this  accursed  place?  But  one  thing  I  will  do," 
said  he,  as  he  ensconced  himself  under  a  thick 
holly,  whence  he  could  see  the  meeting  of  the 
combatants  upon  an  open  lawn  some  twenty  yards 
away ;  "  if  that  big  bull  calf  kills  my  master,  and  I 
do  not  jump  on  his  back  and  pick  his  brains  out 
with  this  trusty  steel  of  mine,  may  my  right 
arm " 

And  Martin  Lightfoot  swore  a  fearful  oath,  which 
need  not  here  be  written. 

The  priest  had  just  finished  his  chant  of  the 
73d  Psalm,  and  had  betaken  himself  in  his  spiritual 
warfare,  as  it  was  then  called,  to  the  equally  appo- 
site 52d,  "  Quid  gloriaris?" 

"  Why  boastest  thou  thyself,  thou  tyrant,  that 
thou  canst  do  mischief,  whereas  the  goodness  of 
God  endureth  yet  daily?" 

"Father!  father!"  cried  a  soft  voice  in  the 
doorway,  "  where  are  you  ?  " 

And  in  hurried  the  princess. 

"  Hide  this,"  she  said,  breathless,  drawing  from 
beneath  her  mantle  a  huge  sword ;  "  hide  it,  where 
no  one  dare  touch  it,  under  the  altar  behind  the 
holy  rood :  no  place  too  secret." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  priest,  rising  from  his 
knees. 

"  His  sword  —  the  ogre's  —  his  magic  sword, 
which  kills  whomsoever  it  strikes.  I  coaxed  him 
to  let  me  have  it  last  night  when  he  was  tipsy,  for 


IO2  Hereward  the  Wake 

fear  he  should  quarrel  with  the  young  stranger,  and 
I  have  kept  it  from  him  ever  since  by  one  excuse 
or  another ;  and  now  he  has  sent  one  of  his  ruffians 
in  for  it,  saying,  that  if  I  do  not  give  it  up  at  once 
he  will  come  back  and  kill  me." 

"  He  dare  not  do  that,"  said  the  priest. 

"  What  is  there  that  he  dare  not  ? "  said  she. 
"  Hide  it  at  once ;  I  know  that  he  wants  it  to  fight 
with  this  Hereward." 

"  If  he  wants  it  for  that,"  said  the  priest,  "  it  is 
too  late ;  for  half  an  hour  is  past  since  Hereward 
went  to  meet  him." 

"  And  you  let  him  go?  You  did  not  persuade 
him,  stop  him?  You  let  him  go  hence  to  his 
death?" 

In  vain  the  good  man  expostulated,  and  ex- 
plained that  it  was  no  fault  of  his. 

"  You  must  come  with  me  this  instant  to  my 
father — to  them;  they  must  be  parted.  They 
shall  be  parted.  If  you  dare  not,  I  dare.  I  will 
throw  myself  between  them,  and  he  that  strikes 
the  other  shall  strike  me." 

And  she  hurried  the  priest  out  of  the  house, 
down  the  knoll,  and  across  the  yard.  There  they 
found  others  on  the  same  errand.  The  news  that 
a  battle  was  toward  had  soon  spread,  and  the  men- 
at-arms  were  hurrying  down  to  the  fight ;  kept  back, 
however,  by  Alef,  who  strode  along  at  their  head. 

Alef  was  sorely  perplexed  in  mind.  He  had 
taken,  as  all  honest  men  did,  a  great  liking  to 
Hereward.  Moreover,  he  was  his  kinsman  and 
his  guest.  Save  him  he  would  if  he  could ;  but 
how  to  save  him  without  mortally  offending  his 
tyrant  Ironhook  he  could  not  see.  At  least  he 
would  exert  what  little  power  he  had,  and  prevent, 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess   103 

if  possible,  his  men-at-arms  from  helping  their 
darling  leader  against  the  hapless  lad. 

Alefs  perplexity  was  much  increased  when  his 
daughter  bounded  towards  him,  seized  him  by  the 
arm,  and  hurried  him  on,  showing  by  look  and 
word  which  of  the  combatants  she  favored,  so 
plainly  that  the  ruffians  behind  broke  into  scorn- 
ful murmurs.  They  burst  through  the  bushes. 
Martin  Lightfoot  happily  heard  them  coming, 
and  had  just  time  to  slip  away  noiselessly,  like  a 
rabbit,  to  the  other  part  of  the  cover. 

The  combat  seemed  at  the  first  glance  to  be  one 
between  a  grown  man  and  a  child,  so  unequal  was 
the  size  of  the  combatants.  But  the  second  look 
showed  that  the  advantage  was  by  no  means  with 
Ironhook.  Stumbling  to  and  fro  with  the  broken 
shaft  of  a  javelin  sticking  in  his  thigh,  he  vainly 
tried  to  seize  Hereward  with  his  long  iron  grapple. 
Hereward,  bleeding,  but  still  active  and  upright, 
broke  away,  and  sprang  round  him,  watching  for 
an  opportunity  to  strike  a  deadly  blow.  The 
housecarles  rushed  forward  with  yells.  Alef 
shouted  to  the  combatants  to  desist ;  but  ere  the 
party  could  reach  them,  Hereward's  opportunity 
had  come.  Ironhook,  after  a  fruitless  lunge,  stum- 
bled forward.  Hereward  leaped  aside,  and  spying 
an  unguarded  spot  below  the  corselet,  drove  his 
sword  deep  into  the  giant's  body,  and  rolled  him 
over  upon  the  sward.  Then  arose  shouts  of  fury. 

"  Foul  play  !  "  cried  one. 

And  others,  taking  up  the  cry,  called  out  "  Sor- 
cery !  "  and  "  Treason  !  " 

Hereward  stood  over  Ironhook  as  he  lay  writh- 
ing and  foaming  on  the  ground. 

"  Killed  by  a  boy  at  last !  "  groaned  he.     "  If  I 


104  Hereward  the  Wake 

had  but  had  my  sword  —  my  Brain-biter,  which 
that  witch  stole  from  me  but  last  night !  "  —  and 
amid  foul  curses  and  bitter  tears  of  shame  his 
mortal  spirit  fled  to  its  doom. 

The  housecarles  rushed  in  on  Hereward,  who 
had  enough  to  do  to  keep  them  at  arm's  length 
by  long  sweeps  of  his  sword. 

Alef  entreated,  threatened,  promised  a  fair  trial 
if  the  men  would  give  fair  play ;  when,  to  complete 
the  confusion,  the  princess  threw  herself  upon  the 
corpse,  shrieking  and  tearing  her  hair;  and  to 
Hereward's  surprise  and  disgust,  bewailed  the 
prowess  and  the  virtues  of  the  dead,  calling  upon 
all  present  to  avenge  his  murder. 

Hereward  vowed  inwardly  that  he  would  never 
again  trust  woman's  fancy,  or  fight  in  woman's 
quarrel.  He  was  now  nigh  at  his  wits'  end ;  the 
housecarles  had  closed  round  him  in  a  ring  with 
the  intention  of  seizing  him;  and  however  well 
he  might  defend  his  front,  he  might  be  crippled  at 
any  moment  from  behind ;  but  in  the  very  nick  of 
time  Martin  Lightfoot  burst  through  the  crowd,  set 
himself  heel  to  heel  with  his  master,  and  broke  out, 
not  with  threats,  but  with  a  good-humored  laugh. 

"  Here  is  a  pretty  coil  about  a  red-headed  brute 
of  a  Pict !  Danes,  Ostmen,"  he  cried,  "  are  you 
not  ashamed  to  call  such  a  fellow  your  lord,  when 
you  have  such  a  true  earl's  son  as  this  to  lead  you 
if  you  will  ?  " 

The  Ostmen  in  the  company  looked  at  each 
other.  Martin  Lightfoot  saw  that  his  appeal  to 
the  antipathies  of  race  had  told.  He,  therefore, 
followed  it  up  by  a  string  of  witticisms  upon  the 
Pictish  nation  in  general,  of  which  the  only  two  fit 
for  modern  ears  to  be  set  down  were  the  two  old 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess   1 05 

stories,  that  the  Picts  had  feet  so  large  that  they 
used  to  lie  upon  their  backs  and  hold  up  their  legs 
to  shelter  themselves  from  the  sun ;  and  that  when 
killed,  they  could  not  fall  down,  but  died  as  they 
were,  all  standing. 

"  So  that  the  only  foul  play  I  can  see  is  that  my 
master  shoved  the  fellow  over  after  he  had  stabbed 
him,  instead  of  leaving  him  to  stand  upright  there, 
like  one  of  your  Cornish  Dolmens,  till  his  flesh 
should  fall  off  his  bones." 

Hereward  saw  the  effect  of  Martin's  words ;  and 
burst  out  in  Danish  likewise,  with  a  true  Viking 
chant,  — 

"  Look  at  me,  dread  me  ! 
I  am  the  Hereward,1 
The  watcher,  the  champion, 
The  Berserker,  the  Viking, 
The  land-thief,  the  sea-thief, 
Young  summer  pirate, 
Famous  land-waster, 
Slayer  of  witch-bears, 
Queller  of  ogres, 
Fattener  of  ravens, 
Darling  of  gray  wolves, 
Wild  widow-maker. 
Touch  me  —  to  wolf  and 
Raven  I  give  you. 
Ship  with  me  boldly, 
Follow  me  gayly, 
Over  the  swan's  road, 
Over  the  whale's  bath, 
Far  to  the  southward, 
Where  sun  and  sea  meet ; 
Where  from  the  palm-boughs 
Apples  of  gold  hang ; 
And  freight  there'  our  long  snake 
With  sendal  and  orfray, 
Dark  Moorish  maidens, 
And  gold  of  Algier." 

1  "  Guardian  of  the  Army." 


106  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  Hark  to  the  Viking !  Hark  to  the  right  earl's 
son !  "  shouted  some  of  the  Danes,  whose  blood 
had  been  stirred  many  a  time  before  by  such  wild 
words,  and  on  whom  Hereward's  youth  and  beauty 
had  their  due  effect.  And  now  the  counsels  of  the 
ruffians  being  divided,  the  old  priest  gained  cour- 
age to  step  in.  Let  them  deliver  Hereward  and 
his  serving  man  into  his  custody.  He  would  bring 
them  forth  on  the  morrow,  and  there  should  be  full 
investigation  and  fair  trial.  And  so  Hereward  and 
Martin,  who  both  refused  stoutly  to  fgive  up  their 
arms,  were  marched  back  into  the  town,  locked  in 
the  little  church,  and  left  to  their  meditations. 

Hereward  sat  down  on  the  pavement  and  cursed 
the  princess.  Martin  Lightfoot  took  off  his  master's 
corselet,  and,  as  well  as  the  darkness  would  allow, 
bound  up  his  wounds,  which  happily  were  not 
severe. 

"  Were  I  you,"  said  he  at  last,  "  I  should  keep 
my  curses  till  I  saw  the  end  of  this  adventure." 

"  Has  not  the  girl  betrayed  me  shamefully?  " 

"  Not  she.  I  saw  her  warn  you,  as  far  as  looks 
could  do,  not  to  quarrel  with  the  man." 

"  That  was  because  she  did  not  know  me.  Little 
she  thought  that  I  could " 

"  Don't  holloa  till  you  are  out  of  the  wood.  This 
is  a  night  for  praying  rather  than  boasting." 

"  She  cannot  really  love  that  wretch,"  said 
Hereward,  after  a  pause.  "  Thou  saw'st  how  she 
mocked  him." 

"  Women  are  strange  things,  and  often  tease  most 
where  they  love  most." 

"  But  such  a  misbegotten  savage." 

"Women  are  strange  things,  say  I,  and  with 
some  a  big  fellow  is  a  pretty  fellow,  be  he  uglier 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess   107 

than  seven  Ironhooks.     Still,  just  because  women 
are  strange  things,  have  patience,  say  I." 

The  lock  creaked,  and  the  old  priest  came  in. 
Martin  leaped  to  the  open  door ;  but  it  was  slammed 
in  his  face  by  men  outside  with  scornful  laughter. 

The  priest  took  Hereward's  head  in  his  hands, 
wept  over  him,  blessed  him/or  having  slain  Goliath 
like  young  David,  and  then  set  food  and  drink 
before  the  two;  but  he  answered  Martin's  ques- 
tions only  with  sighs  and  shakings  of  the  head. 

"  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  then,"  said  Martin,  "  and 
after  that  you,  my  lord,  sleep  off  your  wounds 
while  I  watch  the  door.  I  have  no  fancy  for  these 
fellows  taking  us  unawares  at  night." 

Martin  lay  quietly  across  the  door  till  the  small 
hours,  listening  to  every  sound,  till  the  key  creaked 
once  more  in  the  lock.  He  started  at  the  sound ; 
and  seizing  the  person  who  entered  round  the  neck, 
whispered,  "One  word,  and  you  are  dead." 

"  Do  not  hurt  me,"  answered  a  stifled  voice ;  and 
Martin  Lightfoot,  to  his  surprise,  found  that  he  had 
grasped  no  armed  man,  but  the  slight  frame  of  a 
young  girl. 

"  I  am  the  princess,"  she  whispered,  "  let  me  in." 

"  A  very  pretty  hostage  for  us,"  thought  Martin, 
and  letting  her  go  seized  the  key,  locking  the  door 
in  the  inside. 

"  Take  me  to  your  master,"  she  cried ;  and 
Martin  led  her  up  the  church  wondering,  but  half 
suspecting  some  further  trap. 

"  You  have  a  dagger  in  your  hand,"  said  he, 
holding  her  wrist. 

"  I  have.  If  I  had  meant  to  use  it,  it  would  have 
been  used  first  on  you.  Take  it,  if  you  like." 

She  hurried  up  to  Hereward,  who  lay  sleeping 


io8  Hereward  the  Wake 

quietly  on  the  altar-steps ;  knelt  by  him,  wrung  his 
hands,  called  him  her  champion,  her  deliverer. 

"  I  am  not  well  awake  yet,"  said  he,  coldly,  "  and 
do  not  know  whether  this  may  not  be  a  dream,  as 
more  that  I  have  seen  and  heard  seems  to  be." 

"  It  is  no  dream.  I  am  true.  I  was  always  true 
to  you.  Have  I  not  put  myself  in  your  power? 
Am  I  not  come  here  to  deliver  you,  my  deliverer?  " 

"The  tears  which  you  shed  over  your  ogre's 
corpse  seem  to  have  dried  quickly  enough." 

"  Cruel !  What  else  could  I  do  ?  You  heard 
him  accuse  me  to  his  rough  followers  of  having 
stolen  his  sword.  My  life,  my  father's  life,  were 
not  safe  a  moment,  had  I  not  dissembled,  and  done 
the  thing  I  loathed.  Ah  !  "  she  went  on  bitterly. 
"  You  men,  who  rule  the  world  and  us  by  cruel 
steel,  you  forget  that  we  poor  women  have  but 
one  weapon  left  wherewith  to  hold  our  own,  and 
that  is  cunning ;  and  are  driven  by  you  day  after 
day  to  tell  the  lie  which  we  detest.." 

"  Then  you  really  stole  his  sword  ?  " 

"And  hid  it  here,  for  your  sake."  And  she 
drew  the  weapon  from  behind  the  altar. 

"Take  it.  It  is  yours  now.  It  is  magical. 
Whoever  smites  with  it,  need  never  smite  again. 
Now,  quick,  you  must  be  gone.  But  promise  one 
thing  before  you  go." 

"  If  I  leave  this  land  safe  I  will  do  it,  be  it  what 
it  may.  Why  not  come  with  me,  lady,  and  see  it 
done?" 

She  laughed.  "Vain  boy,  do  you  think  that  I 
love  you  well  enough  for  that?" 

"  I  have  won  you,  and  why  should  I  not  keep 
you  ?  "  said  Hereward,  sullenly. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  I  am  betrothed  to  your 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess   1 09 

kinsman?     And  —  though  that  you  cannot  know 

—  that  I  love  your  kinsman?" 

"  So  I  have  all  the  blows,  and  none  of  the  spoil." 

"Tush,  you  have  the  glory — and  the  sword  — 
and  the  chance,  if  you  will  do  my  bidding,  of  being 
called  by  all  ladies  a  true  and  gentle  knight,  who 
cared  not  for  his  own  pleasure,  but  for  deeds  of 
chivalry.  Go  to  my  betrothed  —  to  Waterford 
over  the  sea.  Take  him  this  ring,  and  tell  him  by 
that  token  to  come  and  claim  me  soon,  lest  he  run 
the  danger  of  losing  me  a  second  time,  and  lose 
me  then  forever;  for  I  am  in  hard  case  here,  and 
were  it  not  for  my  father's  sake,  perhaps  I  might 
dare,  in  spite  of  what  men  might  say,  to  flee  with 
you  to  your  kinsman  across  the  sea." 

"  Trust  me  and  come,"  said  Hereward,  whose 
young  blood  kindled  with  a  sudden  nobleness. 
"  Trust  me  and  I  will  treat  you  like  my  sister,  like 
my  queen.  By  the  holy  rood  above,  I  will  swear 
to  be  true  to  you." 

"  I  do  trust  you,  but  it  cannot  be.  Here  is 
money  for  you  in  plenty  to  hire  a  passage  if  you 
need :  it  is  no  shame  to  take  it  from  me.  And 
now  one  thing  more.  Here  is  a  cord  —  you  must 
bind  the  hands  and  feet  of  the  old  priest  inside, 
and  then  you  must  bind  mine  likewise." 

"  Never,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  It  must  be.  How  else  can  I  explain  your 
having  got  the  key?  I  made  them  give  me  the 
key  on  the  pretence  that  with  one  who  had  most 
cause  to  hate  you,  it  would  be  safe ;  and  when  they 
come  and  find  us  in  the  morning,  I  shall  tell  them 
how  I  came  here  to  stab  you  with  my  own  hands 

—  you  must  lay  the  dagger  by  me  —  and  how  you 
and  your  man  fell  upon  us  and  bound  us,  and  you 


no  Hereward  the  Wake 

escaped.  Ah!  Mary  Mother,"  continued  the 
maiden,  with  a  sigh,  "  when  shall  we  poor  weak 
women  have  no  more  need  of  lying?" 

She  lay  down,  and  Hereward,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, gently  bound  her  hands  and  feet,  kissing  them 
as  he  bound  them. 

"  I  shall  do  well  here  upon  the  altar  steps,"  said 
she.  "  How  can  I  spend  my  time  better  till  the 
morning  light  than  to  lie  here  and  pray?  " 

The  old  priest,  who  was  plainly  in  the  plot,  sub- 
mitted meekly  to  the  same  fate;  and  Hereward 
and  Martin  Lightfoot  stole  out,  locking  the  door, 
but  leaving  the  key  in  it  outside.  To  scramble 
over  the  old  earthwork  was  an  easy  matter ;  and 
in  a  few  minutes  they  were  hurrying  down  the 
valley  to  the  sea,  with  a  fresh  breeze  blowing 
behind  them  from  the  north. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  my  lord,"  said  Martin  Light- 
foot,  "  to  keep  your  curses  till  you  had  seen  the 
end  of  this  adventure  ?  " 

Hereward  was  silent.  His  brain  was  still  whirl- 
ing from  the  adventures  of  the  day,  and  his  heart 
was  very  deeply  touched.  His  shrift  of  the  morn- 
ing, hurried  and  formal  as  it  had  been,  had  soft- 
ened him.  His  danger  —  for  he  felt  how  he  had 
been  face  to  face  with  death  —  had  softened  him 
likewise ;  and  he  repented  somewhat  of  his  vain- 
glorious and  bloodthirsty  boasting  over  a  fallen 
foe,  as  he  began  to  see  that  there  was  a  purpose 
more  noble  in  life  than  ranging  land  and  sea,  a 
ruffian  among  ruffians,  seeking  for  glory  amid 
blood  and  flame.  The  idea  of  chivalry,  of  suc- 
coring the  weak  and  the  oppressed,  of  keeping 
faith  and  honor  not  merely  towards  men  who 
could  avenge  themselves,  but  towards  women  who 


How  Hereward  Succored  a  Princess   1 1 1 

could  not;  the  dim  dawn  of  purity,  gentleness, 
and  the  conquest  of  his  own  fierce  passions  —  all 
these  had  taken  root  in  his  heart  during  his  ad- 
venture with  the  fair  Cornish  girl.  The  seed  was 
sown.  Would  it  be  cut  down  again  by  the  bitter 
blasts  of  the  rough  fighting  world,  or  would  it  grow 
and  bear  the  noble  fruit  of  "  gentle,  very  perfect 
knighthood  "  ? 

They  reached  the  ship,  clambered  on  board 
without  ceremony,  at  the  risk  of  being  taken  and 
killed  as  robbers,  and  told  their  case.  The  mer- 
chants had  not  completed  their  cargo  of  tin. 
Hereward  offered  to  make  up  their  loss  to  them, 
if  they  would  set  sail  at  once ;  and  they,  feeling 
that  the  place  would  be  for  some  time  to  come  too 
hot  to  hold  them,  and  being  also  in  high  delight, 
like  honest  Ostmen,  with  Hereward's  prowess, 
agreed  to  sail  straight  for  Waterford,  and  complete 
their  cargo  there.  But  the  tide  was  out.  It  was 
three  full  hours  before  the  ship  could  float;  and 
for  three  full  hours  they  waited  in  fear  and  trem- 
bling, expecting  the  Cornishmen  to  be  down  upon 
them  in  a  body  every  moment;  under  which 
wholesome  fear  some  on  board  prayed  fervently 
who  had  never  been  known  to  pray  before. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HOW  HEREWARD    TOOK   SERVICE  WITH   RANALD, 
KING  OF  WATERFORD 

^  I^HE  coasts  of  Ireland  were  in  a  state  of  com- 
A  parative  peace  in  the  middle  of  the  eleventh 
century.  The  ships  of  Loghlin,  seen  far  out  at  sea, 
no  longer  drove  the  population  shrieking  inland. 
Heathen  Danes,  whether  fair-haired  Fiongall  from 
Norway,  or  brown-haired  Dubhgall  from  Denmark 
proper,  no  longer  burned  convents,  tortured  monks 
for  their  gold,  or  (as  at  Clonmacnoise)  set  a 
heathen  princess,  Oda,  wife  of  Thorkill,  son  of 
Harold  Haarfagre,  aloft  on  the  high  altar  to  receive 
the  homage  of  the  conquered.  The  Scandinavian 
invaders  had  become  Christianized,  and  civilized 
also  —  owing  to  their  continual  intercourse  with 
foreign  nations  —  more  highly  than  the  Irish  whom 
they  had  overcome.  That  was  easy;  for  early 
Irish  civilization  seems  to  have  existed  only  in  the 
convents  and  for  the  religious;  and  when  they 
were  crushed,  mere  barbarism  was  left  behind. 
And  now  the  same  process  went  on  in  the  east  of 
Ireland,  which  went  on  a  generation  or  two  later 
in  the  east  and  north  of  Scotland.  The  Danes 
began  to  settle  down  into  peaceful  colonists  and 
traders.  Ireland  was  poor;  and  the  convents 
plundered  once  could  not  be  plundered  again. 


How   Hereward  Served  Ranald      113 

The  Irish  were  desperately  brave.  Ill-armed  and 
almost  naked,  they  were  as  perfect  in  the  arts  of 
forest  warfare  as  those  modern  Maories  whom  they 
so  much  resembled  ;  and  though  their  black  skenes 
and  light  darts  were  no  match  for  the  Danish 
swords  and  battle-axes  which  they  adopted  during 
the  middle  age,  or  their  plaid  trousers  and  felt 
capes  for  the  Danish  helmet  and  chain  corselet,  still 
an  Irishman  was  so  ugly  a  foe,  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  fight  with  him  unless  he  could  be 
robbed  afterwards.  The  Danes,  who,  like  their 
descendants  of  Northumbria,  Moray,  and  Suther- 
land, were  canny  common-sense  folk,  with  a  shrewd 
eye  to  interest,  found,  somewhat  to  their  regret, 
that  there  were  trades  even  more  profitable  than 
robbery  and  murder.  They  therefore  concentrated 
themselves  round  harbors  and  river  mouths,  and 
sent  forth  their  ships  to  all  the  western  seas,  from 
Dublin,  Waterford,  Wexford,  Cork,  or  Limerick. 
Every  important  seaport  in  Ireland  owes  its  ex- 
istence to  those  sturdy  Vikings'  sons.  In  each  of 
these  towns  they  had  founded  a  petty  kingdom, 
which  endured  until,  and  even  in  some  cases  after, 
the  conquest  of  Ireland  by  Henry  II.  and  Strong- 
bow.  They  intermarried  in  the  mean  while  with  the 
native  Irish.  Brian  Boru,  for  instance,  was  so 
connected  with  Danish  royalty,  that  it  is  still  a 
question  whether  he  himself  had  not  Danish  blood 
in  his  veins.  King  Sigtryg  Silkbeard,  who  fought 
against  him  at  Clontarf,  was  actually  his  stepson  — 
and  so  too,  according  to  another  Irish  chronicler, 
was  King  Olaff  Kvaran,  who,  even  at  the  time  of 
the  battle  of  Clontarf,  was  married  to  Brian  Boru's 
daughter  —  a  marriage  which  (if  a  fact)  was  start- 
lingly  within  the  prohibited  degrees  of  consan- 

Vol.  12— F 


114  Hereward  the  Wake 

guinity.  But  the  ancient  Irish  were  sadly  careless 
on  such  points ;  and,  as  Giraldus  Cambrensis  says, 
"  followed  the  example  of  men  of  old  in  their  vices 
more  willingly  than  in  their  virtues." 

More  than  forty  years  had  elapsed  since  that 
famous  battle  of  Clontarf,  and  since  Ragnvald, 
Reginald,  or  Ranald,  son  of  Sigtryg  the  Norseman, 
had  been  slain  therein  by  Brian  Boru.  On  that 
one  day,  so  the  Irish  sang,  the  northern  invaders 
were  exterminated,  once  and  for  all,  by  the  Milesian 
hero,  who  had  craftily  used  the  strangers  to  fight 
his  battles,  and  then  the  moment  they  became 
formidable  to  himself,  crushed  them  till  "  from 
Howth  to  Brandon  in  Kerry,  there  was  not  a 
threshing-floor  without  a  Danish  slave  threshing 
thereon,  or  a  quern  without  a  Danish  woman 
grinding  thereat." 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  total  annihilation  of 
the  Danish  power  in  the  Emerald  isle,  Ranald 
seemed  to  the  eyes  of  men  to  be  still  a  hale  old 
warrior,  ruling  constitutionally  —  that  is,  with  a 
wholesome  fear  of  being  outlawed  or  murdered  if 
he  misbehaved  —  over  the  Danes  in  Waterford; 
with  five  hundred  fair-haired  warriors  at  his  back, 
two-edged  axe  on  shoulder,  and  two-edged  sword 
on  thigh.  His  ships  drove  a  thriving  trade  with 
France  and  Spain  in  Irish  fish,  butter,  honey  and 
furs.  His  workmen  coined  money  in  the  old  round 
tower  of  Dundory,  built  by  his  predecessor  and 
namesake  about  the  year  1003,  which  stands  as 
Reginald's  Tower  to  this  day.  He  had  fought 
many  a  bloody  battle  since  his  death  at  Clontarf, 
by  the  side  of  his  old  leader  Sigtryg  Silkbeard. 
He  had  been  many  a  time  to  Dublin  to  visit  his 
even  more  prosperous  and  formidable  friend ;  and 


How  Hereward  Served   Ranald      115 

was  so  delighted  with  the  new  church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  which  Sigtryg  and  his  bishop  Donatus  had 
just  built,  not  in  the  Danish  or  Ostman  town,  but 
in  the  heart  of  ancient  Celtic  Dublin  (plain  proof 
of  the  utter  overthrow  of  the  Danish  power),  that 
he  had  determined  to  build  a  like  church,  in  honor 
of  the  Holy  Trinity,  in  Waterford  itself.  A  thriv- 
ing valiant  old  king  he  seemed,  as  he  sat  in  his 
great  house  of  pine  logs  under  Reginald's  Tower 
upon  the  quay,  drinking  French  and  Spanish  wines 
out  of  horns  of  ivory  and  cups  of  gold ;  and  over 
his  head  hanging,  upon  the  wall,  the  huge  double- 
edged  axe  with  which,  so  his  flatterers  had  whis- 
pered, Brian  Boru  had  not  slain  him,  but  he  Brian 
Boru. 

Nevertheless,  then  as  since,  alas !  the  pleasant 
theory  was  preferred  by  the  Milesian  historians  to 
the  plain  truth.  And  far  away  inland,  monks  wrote 
and  harpers  sung  of  the  death  of  Ranald  the  fair- 
haired  Fiongall,  and  all  his  "  mailed  swarms." 

One  Teague  MacMurrough,  indeed,  a  famous 
bard  of  those  parts,  composed  unto  his  harp  a  song 
of  Clontarf,  the  fame  whereof  reached  Ranald's 
ears,  and  so  amused  him  that  he  rested  not  day  or 
night  till  he  had  caught  the  hapless  bard  and 
brought  him  in  triumph  into  Waterford.  There  he 
compelled  him  at  sword's  point  to  sing  to  him  and 
his  housecarles  the  Milesian  version  of  the  great 
historical  event ;  and  when  the  harper  in  fear  and 
trembling  came  to  the  story  of  Ranald's  own  death 
at  Brian  Boru's  hands,  then  the  jolly  old  Viking 
laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  face ;  and  in- 
stead of  cutting  off  Teague's  head,  gave  him  a  cup 
of  goodly  wine,  made  him  his  own  harper  thence- 
forth, and  bade  him  send  for  his  wife  and  children, 


1 1 6  Hereward  the  Wake 

and  sing  to  him  every  day,  especially  the  song  of 
Clontarf  and  his  own  death;  treating  him  very 
much,  in  fact,  as  English  royalty  during  the  last 
generation  treated  another  Irish  bard  whose  song 
was  even  more  sweet,  and  his  notions  of  Irish  his- 
tory even  more  grotesque,  than  those  of  Teague 
MacMurrough. 

It  was  to  this  old  king,  or  rather  to  his  son 
Sigtryg,  godson  of  Sigtryg  Silkbeard,  and  distant 
cousin  of  his  own,  that  Hereward  now  took  his  way, 
and  told  his  story,  as  the  king  sat  in  his  hall,  drink- 
ing across  the  fire  after  the  old  Norse  fashion.  The 
fire  of  pine  logs  was  in  the  midst  of  the  hall,  and 
the  smoke  went  out  through  a  hole  in  the  roof. 
On  one  side  was  a  long  bench,  and  in  the  middle 
of  it  the  king's  high  armchair;  right  and  left  of 
him  sat  his  kinsmen  and  the  ladies,  and  his  sea-cap- 
tains and  men  of  wealth.  Opposite,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fire,  was  another  bench.  In  the  middle 
of  that  sat  his  marshal,  and  right  and  left  all  his 
housecarles.  There  were  other  benches  behind,  on 
which  sat  more  freemen,  but  of  lesser  rank. 

And  they  were  all  drinking  ale,  which  a  servant 
poured  out  of  a  bucket  into  a  great  bull's  horn,  and 
the  men  handed  round  to  each  other. 

Then  Hereward  came  in,  and  sat  down  on  the 
end  of  the  hindermost  bench,  and  Martin  stood  be- 
hind him ;  till  one  of  the  ladies  said  — 

"  Who  is  that  young  stranger,  who  sits  behind 
there  so  humbly,  though  he  looks  like  an  earl's 
son,  more  fit  to  sit  here  with  us  on  the  high 
bench?" 

"So  he  does,"  quoth  King  Ranald.  "Come 
forward  hither,  young  sir,  and  drink." 

And  when  Hereward  came  forward,  all  the  ladies 


How  Hereward  Served  Ranald      1 1 7 

agreed  that  he  must  be  an  earl's  son ;  for  he  had  a 
great  gold  tore  round  his  neck,  and  gold  rings  on 
his  wrists ;  and  a  new  scarlet  coat,  bound  with  gold 
braid  ;  and  scarlet  stockings,  cross-laced  with  gold 
braid  up  to  the  knee;  and  shoes  trimmed  with 
marten's  fur ;  and  a  short  blue  silk  cloak  over  all, 
trimmed  with  marten's  fur  likewise;  and  by  his 
side,  in  a  broad  belt  with  gold  studs,  was  the  ogre's 
sword  Brain-biter,  with  its  ivory  hilt  and  velvet 
sheath ;  and  all  agreed  that  if  he  had  but  been  a 
head  taller,  they  had  never  seen  a  properer  man. 

"Aha!  such  a  gay  young  sea-cock  does  not 
come  hither  for  naught.  Drink  first,  man,  and  tell 
us  thy  business  after,"  and  he  reached  the  horn  to 
Hereward. 

Hereward  took  it,  and  sang  — 

"In  this  Braga-beaker, 
Brave  Ranald  I  pledge; 
In  good  liquor,  which  lightens 
Long  labor  on  oar-bench  : 
Good  liquor  which  sweetens 
The  song  of  the  scald." 

"  Thy  voice  is  as  fine  as  thy  feathers,  man.  Nay, 
drink  it  all.  We  ourselves  drink  here  by  the  peg  at 
midday :  but  a  stranger  is  welcome  to  fill  his  inside 
at  all  hours." 

Whereon  Hereward  finished  the  horn  duly ;  and 
at  Ranald's  bidding,  sat  him  down  on  the  high 
settle.  He  did  not  remark  that  as  he  sat  down, 
two  handsome  youths  rose  and  stood  behind  him. 

"  Now  then,  sir  priest,"  quoth  the  king,  "  go  on 
with  your  story." 

A  priest,  Irish  by  his  face  and  dress,  who  sat  on 
the  high  bench,  rose,  and  renewed  an  oration 
which  Hereward's  entrance  had  interrupted. 


1 1 8  Hercward  the  Wake 

"  So,  O  great  king,  as  says  Homerus,  this  wise 
king  called  his  earls,  knights,  sea-captains,  and 
housecarles,  and  said  unto  them :  '  Which  of  these 
two  kings  is  in  the  right,  who  can  tell !  But  mind 
you,  that  this  king  of  the  Enchanters  lives  far  away 
in  India,  and  we  never  heard  of  him  more  than  his 
name:  but  this  king  Ulixes  and  his  Greeks  live 
hard  by ;  and  which  of  the  two  is  it  wiser  to  quarrel 
with,  him  that  lives  hard  by  or  him  that  lives  far 
off?'  Therefore,  King  Ranald,  says,  by  the  mouth 
of  my  humility,  the  great  Feargus,  Lord  of  Ivark, 
—  'Take  example  by  Alcinous,  the  wise  king  of 
Fairy,  and  listen  not  to  the  ambassadors  of  those 
lying  villains,  O'Dea  Lord  of  Slievardagh,  Mac- 
earthy  King  of  Cashel,  and  O'Sullivan  Lord  of 
Knockraffin,  who  all  three  between  them  could  not 
raise  kernes  enough  to  drive  off  one  old  widow's 
cow.  Make  friends  with  me,  who  live  upon  your 
borders ;  and  you  shall  go  peaceably  through  my 
lands,  to  conquer  and  destroy  them,  who  live  afar 
off;  as  they  deserve,  the  sons  of  Belial  and 
Judas.' " 

And  the  priest  crossed  himself,  and  sat  down. 
At  which  speech  Hereward  was  seen  to  laugh. 

"Why  do  you  laugh,  young  sir?  The  priest 
seems  to  talk  like  a  wise  man,  and  is  my  guest  and 
an  ambassador." 

Then  rose  up  Hereward,  and  bowed  to  the  king. 
"King  Ranald  Sigtrygsson,  it  was  not  for  rudeness 
that  I  laughed,  for  I  learned  good  manners  long  ere 
I  came  here;  but  because  I  find  clerks  alike  all 
over  the  world." 

"How?" 

"Quick  at  hiding  false  counsel  under  learned 
speech.  I  know  nothing  of  Ulixes,  king,  nor  of 


How  Hereward  Served  Ranald      119 

this  Feargus  either;  and  I  am  but  a  lad,  as  you 
see ;  but  I  heard  a  bird  once  in  my  own  country 
who  gave  a  very  different  counsel  from  the 
priest's." 

"  Speak  on,  then.  This  lad  is  no  fool,  my  merry 
men  all." 

"  There  were  three  copses,  king,  in  our  country, 
and  each  copse  stood  on  a  hill.  In  the  first  there 
built  an  eagle,  in  the  second  there  built  a  sparhawk, 
in  the  third  there  built  a  crow. 

"  Now  the  sparhawk  came  to  the  eagle,  and  said, 
'  Go  shares  with  me,  and  we  will  kill  the  crow,  and 
have  her  wood  to  ourselves.' 

"  '  Humph  ! '  says  the  eagle,  '  I  could  kill  the 
crow  without  your  help ;  however,  I  will  think  of  it.' 

"When  the  crow  heard  that,  she  came  to  the 
eagle  herself,  '  King  Eagle,'  says  she, '  why  do  you 
want  to  kill  me,  who  live  ten  miles  from  you,  and 
never  flew  across  your  path  in  my  life?  Better 
kill  that  little  rogue  of  a  sparhawk  who  lives  be- 
tween us,  and  is  always  ready  to  poach  on  your 
marches  whenever  your  back  is  turned.  So  you 
will  have  her  wood  as  well  as  your  own.' 

"  '  You  are  a  wise  crow,'  said  the  eagle ;  and  he 
went  out  and  killed  the  sparhawk,  and  took  his 
wood." 

Loud  laughed  King  Ranald  and  his  Vikings  all. 

"  Well  spoken,  young  man  !  We  will  take  the 
sparhawk,  and  let  the  crow  bide." 

"  Nay,  but,"  quoth  Hereward,  "  hear  the  end  of 
the  story.  After  a  while  the  eagle  finds  the  crow 
beating  about  the  edge  of  the  sparhawk's  wood. 

"  '  Oho  ! '  says  he,  '  so  you  can  poach  as  well  as 
that  little  hooknosed  rogue  ? '  and  he  killed  her  too. 

"  '  Ah ! '  says  the  crow,  when  she  lay  a-dying, 


I2O  Hereward  the  Wake 

'  my  blood  is  on  my  own  head.  If  I  had  but  left 
the  sparhawk  between  me  and  this  great  tyrant ! ' 

"  And  so  the  eagle  got  all  three  woods  to  him- 
self." 

At  which  the  Vikings  laughed  more  loudly  than 
ever;  and  King  Ranald,  chuckling  at  the  notion 
of  eating  up  the  hapless  Irish  princes  one  by  one, 
sent  back  the  priest  (not  without  a  present  for  his 
church,  for  Ranald  was  a  pious  man)  to  tell  the 
great  Feargus,  that  unless  he  sent  into  Waterford 
by  that  day  week,  two  hundred  head  of  cattle,  a 
hundred  pigs,  a  hundredweight  of  clear  honey,  and 
as  much  of  wax,  Ranald  would  not  leave  so  much 
as  a  sucking  pig  alive  in  Ivark. 

The  cause  of  quarrel,  of  course,  was  too  unim- 
portant to  be  mentioned.  Each  had  robbed  and 
cheated  the  other  half-a-dozen  times  in  the  last 
twenty  years.  As  for  the  morality  of  the  trans- 
action, Ranald  had  this  salve  for  his  conscience, 
that  as  he  intended  to  do  to  Feargus,  so  would 
Feargus  have  gladly  done  to  him,  had  he  been 
living  peaceably  in  Norway,  and  been  strong 
enough  to  invade  and  rob  him.  Indeed,  so  had 
Feargus  done  already,  ever  since  he  wore  beard, 
to  every  chieftain  of  his  own  race  whom  he  was 
strong  enough  to  ill-treat.  Many  a  fair  herd  had 
he  driven  off,  many  a  fair  farm  burned,  many  a  fair 
woman  carried  off  a  slave,  after  that  inveterate 
fashion  of  lawless  feuds  which  makes  the  history 
of  Celtic  Ireland  from  the  earliest  times  one  dull 
and  aimless  catalogue  of  murder  and  devastation, 
followed  by  famine  and  disease;  and  now,  as  he 
had  done  to  others,  so  was  it  to  be  done  to  him. 

"  And  now,  young  sir,  who  seem  as  witty  as  you 
are  good-looking,  you  may,  if  you  will,  tell  us  your 


How  Hercward  Served  Ranald      121 

name  and  your  business.  As  for  the  name,  how- 
ever, if  you  wish  to  keep  it  to  yourself,  Ranald 
Sigtrygsson  is  not  the  man  to  demand  it  of  an 
honest  guest." 

Hereward  looked  round,  and  saw  Teague  Mac- 
Murrough  standing  close  to  him,  harp  in  hand. 
He  took  it  from  him  courteously  enough;  put  a 
silver  penny  into  the  minstrel's  hand ;  and  running 
his  fingers  over  the  strings,  rose  and  b  gan  — 

"  Outlaw  and  free  thief 
Landless  and  lawless 
Through  the  world  fare  I, 
Thoughtless  of  life. 
Soft  is  my  beard,  but 
Hard  my  Brain-biter. 
Wake,  men  me  call,  whom 
Warrior  and  warden 
Find  ever  watchful. 
Far  in  Northumberland 
Slew  I  the  witch-bear, 
Cleaving  his  brain-pan, 
At  one  stroke  I  felled  him." 

And  so  forth,  chanting  all  his  doughty  deeds, 
with  such  a  voice  and  spirit  joined  to  that  musi- 
cal talent  for  which  he  was  afterwards  so  famous, 
till  the  hearts  of  the  wild  Norsemen  rejoiced, 
and  "  Skall  to  the  stranger !  Skall  to  the  young 
Viking !  "  rang  through  the  hall. 

Then  showing  proudly  the  fresh  wounds  on  his 
bare  arms,  he  sang  of  his  fight  with  the  Cornish 
ogre,  and  his  adventure  with  the  princess.  But 
always,  though  he  went  into  the  most  minute  de- 
tails, he  concealed  the  name  both  of  her  and  of 
her  father,  while  he  kept  his  eyes  steadily  fixed  on 
Ranald's  eldest  son,  Sigtryg,  who  sat  at  his  father's 
right  hand. 


122  Here  ward  the  Wake 

The  young  man  grew  uneasy,  red,  almost  an- 
gry ;  till  at  last  Hereward  sung  — 

"  A  gold  ring  she  gave  me 
Right  royally  dwarf-worked ; 
To  none  will  I  pass  it 
For  prayer  or  for  sword  stroke, 
Save  to  him  who  can  claim  it 
By  love  and  by  troth  plight ; 
Let  that  hero  speak 
If  that  hero  be  here." 

Young  Sigtryg  half  started  from  his  feet:  but 
when  Hereward  smiled  at  him,  and  laid  his  finger 
on  his  lips,  he  sat  down  again.  Hereward  felt  his 
shoulder  touched  from  behind.  One  of  the  youths 
who  had  risen  when  he  sat  down  bent  over  him, 
and  whispered  in  his  ear  — 

"  Ah,  Hereward,  we  know  you.  Do  you  not 
know  us?  We  are  the  twins,  the  sons  of  your  sis- 
ter, Siward  the  White  and  Siward  the  Red,  the 
orphans  of  Asbiorn  Siwardsson,  who  fell  at  Dun- 
sinane."  Hereward  sprang  up,  struck  the  harp 
again,  and  sang  — 

"  Outlaw  and  free-thief, 
My  kinsfolk  have  left  me, 
And  no  kinsfolk  need  I 
Till  kinsfolk  shall  need  me. 
My  sword  is  my  father, 
My  shield  is  my  mother, 
My  ship  is  my  sister, 
My  horse  is  my  brother." 

"Uncle,  uncle,"  whispered  one  of  them  sadly, 
"listen  now  or  never,  for  we  have  bad  news  for 
you  and  us.  Your  father  is  dead,  and  Earl  Algar, 
your  brother,  here  in  Ireland,  outlawed,  a  second 
time." 


How  Hereward  Served  Ranald      123 

A  flood  of  sorrow  passed  through  Hereward's 
heart.  He  kept  it  down,  and  rising  once  more, 
harp  in  hand, — 

"  Hereward,  king,  hight  I. 
Holy  Leofric  my  father, 
In  Westminster  wiser 
None  walked  with  King  EdwanL 
High  minsters  he  builded, 
Pale  monks  he  maintained. 
Dead  is  he,  a  bed-death, 
A  leech-death,  a  priest-death, 
A  straw-death,  a  cow's-death. 
Such  doom  suits  not  me. 
To  high  heaven,  all  so  softly, 
The  angels  uphand  him; 
In  meads  of  May  flowers 
Mild  Mary  will  meet  him : 
Me,  happier,  the  Valkyrs 
Shall  wait  from  the  war-deck, 
Shall  hail  from  the  holmgang 
Or  helmet-strewn  moorland. 
And  sword  strokes  my  shrift  be, 
Sharp  spears  be  my  leeches, 
With  heroes'  hot  corpses 
High  heaped  for  my  pillow." 

"  Skall  to  the  Viking !  "  shouted  the  Danes  once 
more,  at  this  outburst  of  heathendom,  common 
enough  among  their  half-converted  race,  in  times 
when  monasticism  made  so  utter  a  divorce  between 
the  life  of  the  devotee  and  that  of  the  worldling, 
that  it  seemed  reasonable  enough  for  either  party 
to  have  their  own  heaven  and  their  own  hell. 
After  all,  Hereward  was  not  original  in  his  wish. 
He  had  but  copied  the  death-^.tg  which  Siward 
Digre  had  sung  for  himself  some  three  years 
before. 

All  praised  his  poetry,  and  especially  the  quick- 


124  Hereward  the  Wake 

ness  of  his  alliterations  (then  a  note  of  the  highest 
art) ;  and  the  old  king  filling  not  this  time  the 
horn,  but  a  golden  goblet,  bid  him  drain  it  and 
keep  the  goblet  for  his  song. 

Young  Sigtryg  leaped  up,  and  took  the  cup  to 
Hereward.  "Such  a  scald,"  he  said,  "ought  to 
have  no  meaner  cup-bearer  than  a  king's  son." 

Hereward  drank  it  dry;  and  then  fixing  his 
eyes  meaningly  on  the  prince,  dropped  the  prin- 
cess's ring  into  the  cup,  and  putting  it  back  into 
Sigtryg's  hand,  sang  — 

**  The  beaker  I  reach  back 
More  rich  than  I  took  it. 
No  gold  will  I  grasp 
Of  the  king's,  the  ring-giver, 
Till,  by  wit  or  by  weapon, 
I  worthily  win  it. 
When  felled  by  my  faulchion 
False  Feargus  lies  gory, 
While  over  the  wolf's  meal 
Wild  widows  are  wailing." 

"  Does  he  refuse  my  gift?  "  grumbled  Ranald. 

"  He  has  given  a  fair  reason,"  said  the  prince, 
as  he  hid  the  ring  in  his  bosom ;  "  leave  him  to 
me ;  for  my  brother  in  arms  he  is  henceforth." 

After  which,  as  was  the  custom  of  those  parts, 
most  of  them  drank  too  much  liquor.  But  neither 
Sigtryg  nor  Hereward  drank;  and  the  two  Siwards 
stood  behind  their  young  uncle's  seat,  watching 
him  with  that  intense  admiration  which  lads  can 
feel  for  a  young  hero. 

That  night,  when  the  warriors  were  asleep,  Sig- 
tryg and  Hereward  talked  out  their  plans.  They 
would  equip  two  ships;  they  would  fight  all  the 
kinglets  of  Cornwall  at  once,  if  need  was ;  they 


How  Hereward  Served  Ranald      125 

would  carry  off  the  princess,  and  burn  Alef  s  town 
over  his  head  if  he  said  nay.  Nothing  could  be 
more  simple  than  the  tactics  required  in  an  age 
when  might  was  right. 

Then  Hereward  turned  to  his  two  nephews,  who 
lingered  near  him,  plainly  big  with  news. 

"And  what  brings  you  here,  lads?"  He  had 
hardened  his  heart,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  show 
no  kindness  to  his  own  kin.  The  day  might  come 
when  they  might  need  him ;  then  it  would  be  his 
turn. 

"  Your  father,  as  we  told  you,  is  dead." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  him,  and  the  worse  for 
England.  And  Harold  and  the  Godwinssons,  of 
course,  are  lords  and  masters  far  and  wide?" 

"  Tosti  has  our  grandfather  Siward's  earldom." 

"I  know  that.  I  know,  too,  that  he  will  not 
keep  it  long,  unless  he  learns  that  Northumbrians 
are  free  men  and  not  Wessex  slaves." 

"And  Algar  our  uncle  is  outlawed  again,  after 
King  Edward  had  given  him  peaceably  your 
father's  earldom." 

"And  why?" 

"  Why  was  he  outlawed  two  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Because  the  Godwinssons  hate  him ;  as  they 
will  hate  you  in  your  turn." 

"And  Algar  is  gone  to  Griffin  the  Welshman, 
and  from  him  on  to  Dublin  to  get  ships,  just  as  he 
did  two  years  ago;  and  has  sent  us  here  to  get 
ships  likewise." 

"  And  what  will  he  do  with  them  when  he  has 
got  them?  He  burned  Hereford  last  time  he  was 
outlawed,  by  way  of  a  wise  deed,  minster  and  all, 
with  St.  Ethelbert's  relics  on  board;  and  slew 
seven  priests :  but  they  were  only  honest  canons 


126  Hereward  the  Wake 

with  wives  at  home,  and  not  shaveling  monks,  so 
I  suppose  that  sin  was  easily  shrived.  Well,  I 
robbed  a  priest  of  a  few  pence  and  was  outlawed ; 
he  plunders  and  burns  a  whole  minster,  and  is 
made  a  great  earl  for  it  One  law  for  the  weak 
and  one  for  the  strong,  young  lads,  as  you  will 
know  when  you  are  as  old  as  I.  And  now  I  sup- 
pose he  will  plunder  and  burn  more  minsters,  and 
then  patch  up  a  peace  with  Harold  again ;  which 
I  advise  him  strongly  to  do ;  for  I  warn  you,  young 
lads,  and  you  may  carry  that  message  from  me 
to  Dublin  to  my  good  brother  your  uncle,  that 
Harold's  little  finger  is  thicker  than  his  whole 
body;  and  that,  false  Godwinsson  as  he  is,  he  is 
the  only  man  with  a  head  upon  his  shoulders  left 
in  England,  now  that  his  father  and  my  father,  and 
dear  old  Siward,  whom  I  loved  better  than  my 
father,  are  dead  and  gone." 

The  lads  stood  silent,  not  a  little  awed,  and 
indeed  imposed  on,  by  the  cynical  and  worldly- 
wise  tone  which  their  renowned  uncle  had  assumed. 

At  last  one  of  them  asked  falteringly,  "Then 
you  will  do  nothing  for  us  ?  " 

"  For  you  nothing.  Against  you  nothing.  Why 
should  I  mix  myself  up  in  my  brother's  quarrels? 
Will  he  make  that  white-headed  driveller  at  West- 
minster reverse  my  outlawry?  And  if  he  does, 
what  shall  I  get  thereby  ?  A  younger  brother's 
portion;  a  dirty  ox-gang  of  land  in  Kesteven. 
Let  him  leave  me  alone  as  I  leave  him,  and  see  if 
I  do  not  come  back  to  him  some  day,  for  or  against 
him  as  he  chooses,  with  such  a  host  of  Vikings'  sons 
as  Harold  Hardraade  himself  would  be  proud  of. 
By  Thor's  hammer,  boys,  I  have  been  an  outlaw 
but  five  years  now,  and  I  find  it  so  cheery  a  life, 


How  Hereward  Served  Ranald      1 27 

that  I  do  not  care  if  I  am  an  outlaw  for  fifty  more. 
The  world  is  a  fine  place  and  a  wide  place ;  and  it 
is  a  very  little  corner  of  it  that  I  have  seen  yet ; 
and  if  you  were  of  my  mettle,  you  would  come 
along  with  me  and  see  it  throughout  to  the  four 
corners  of  heaven,  instead  of  mixing  yourselves  up 
in  these  paltry  little  quarrels  with  which  our  two 
families  are  tearing  England  in  pieces,  and  being 
murdered  perchance  like  dogs  at  last  by  treachery, 
as  Sweyn  Godwinsson  murdered  Biorn  Ulfsson, 
his  own  cousin." 

The  boys  listened,  wide-eyed  and  wide-eared. 
Hereward  knew  to  whom  he  was  speaking;  and 
he  had  not  spoken  in  vain. 

"  What  do  you  hope  to  get  here?"  he  went  on. 
"  Ranald  will  give  you  no  ships ;  he  will  have 
enough  to  do  to  fight  this  Feargus ;  and  he  is  too 
cunning  to  thrust  his  head  into  Algar's  quarrels." 

"  We  hoped  to  find  Vikings  here  who  would  go 
to  any  war  in  the  hope  of  plunder." 

"  If  there  be  any,  I  want  them  more  than  you ; 
and  what  is  more,  I  will  have  them.  They  know 
that  they  will  do  finer  deeds  with  me  for  their  captain, 
than  burning  a  few  English  homesteads.  And  so 
may  you.  Come  with  me,  lads.  Once  and  for  all, 
come.  Help  me  to  fight  Feargus.  Then  help  me 
to  another  little  adventure  which  I  have  on  hand  — 
as  pretty  a  one  as  ever  you  heard  a  minstrel  sing  — 
and  then  we  will  fit  out  a  large  ship  or  two,  and  go 
where  fate  leads  —  to  Constantinople,  if  you  like. 
What  can  you  do  better?  You  never  will  get  that 
earldom  from  Tosti.  Lucky  for  young  Waltheof, 
your  uncle,  if  he  gets  it ;  —  if  he,  and  you  too,  are 
not  murdered  within  seven  years;  for  I  know 
Tosti's  humor,  when  he  has  rivals  in  his  way " 


128  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  Algar  will  protect  us,"  said  one. 

"  I  tell  you,  Algar  is  no  match  for  the  God- 
winssons.  If  the  monk-king  died  to-morrow, 
neither  his  earldom  nor  his  life  would  be  safe. 
When  I  saw  your  father  Asbiorn  Bulax  lie  dead 
at  Dunsinane,  I  said,  'There  ends  the  glory  of 
the  house  of  the  bear;'  and  if  you  wish  to  make 
my  words  come  false,  then  leave  England  to 
founder,  and  rot  and  fall  to  pieces  —  as  all  men  say 
she  is  doing  —  without  your  helping  to  hasten  her 
ruin;  and  seek  glory  and  wealth,  too,  with  me 
around  the  world !  The  white  bear's  blood  is 
in  your  veins,  lads.  Take  to  the  sea  like  your 
forefather,  and  come  over  the  swan's  bath  with 
me!" 

"  That  we  will,"  said  the  two  lads.  And  well 
they  kept  their  word. 


CHAPTER  V 

HOW    HEREWARD    SUCCORED    THE    PRINCESS    OF 
CORNWALL  A  SECOND  TIME 

FAT  was  the  feasting,  and  loud  was  the  harping, 
in  the  halls  of  Alef,  King  of  Gweek.  Savory 
was  the  smell  of  fried  pilchard  and  hake;  more 
savory  still  that  of  roast  porpoise;  most  savory 
of  all  that  of  fifty  huge  squab  pies,  built  up  of 
layers  of  apples,  bacon,  onions,  and  mutton,  and 
at  the  bottom  of  each  a  squab,  or  young  cormo- 
rant, which  diffused  both  through  the  pie  and 
through  the  ambient  air  a  delicate  odor  of  min- 
gled guano  and  polecat.  And  the  occasion  was 
worthy  alike  of  the  smell  and  of  the  noise;  for 
King  Alef,  finding  that  after  the  ogre's  death  the 
neighboring  kings  were  but  too  ready  to  make 
reprisals  on  him  for  his  champion's  murders  and 
robberies,  had  made  a  treaty  of  alliance,  offensive 
and  defensive,  with  Hannibal  the  son  of  Gryll, 
King  of  Marazion,  and  had  confirmed  the  same  by 
bestowing  on  him  the  hand  of  his  fair  daughter. 
Whether  she  approved  of  the  match  or  not,  was 
asked  neither  by  King  Alef  nor  by  King  Hannibal. 
To-night  was  the  bridal  feast.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing the  church  was  to  hallow  the  union,  and  after 
that  Hannibal  Grylls  was  to  lead  home  his  bride, 
among  a  gallant  company. 


1 30  Hereward  the  Wake 

And  as  they  ate  and  drank,  and  harped  and 
piped,  there  came  into  that  hall  four  shabbily 
dressed  men  —  one  of  them  a  short,  broad  fellow, 
with  black  elf-locks  and  a  red  beard  —  and  sat 
them  down  sneakingly  at  the  very  lowest  end  of 
all  the  benches. 

In  hospitable  Cornwall,  especially  on  such  a 
day,  every  guest  was  welcome ;  and  the  strangers 
sat  peaceably,  but  ate  nothing,  though  there  was 
both  hake  and  pilchard  within  reach. 

Next  to  them,  by  chance,  sat  a  great  lourdan  of 
a  Dane,  as  honest,  brave,  and  stupid  a  fellow  as 
ever  tugged  at  oar;  and  after  a  while  they  fell 
talking,  till  the  strangers  had  heard  the  reason  of 
this  great  feast,  and  all  the  news  of  the  country 
side. 

"But  whence  did  they  come,  not  to  know  it 
already;  for  all  Cornwall  was  talking  thereof?" 

"Oh  —  they  came  out  of  Devonshire,  seeking 
service  down  west,  with  some  merchant  or  rover, 
being  seafaring  men." 

The  stranger  with  the  black  hair  had  been, 
meanwhile,  earnestly  watching  the  princess,  who 
sat  at  the  board's  head.  He  saw  her  watching 
him  in  return,  and  with  a  face  sad  enough. 

At  last  she  burst  into  tears. 

"What  should  the  bride  weep  for,  at  such  a 
merry  wedding  ?  "  asked  he  of  his  companion. 

"Oh,  —  cause  enough;"  and  he  told  bluntly 
enough  the  princess's  story.  "  And  what  is  more," 
said  he,  "  the  King  of  Waterford  sent  a  ship  over 
last  week,  with  forty  proper  lads  on  board,  and 
two  gallant  holders  with  them,  to  demand  her; 
but  for  all  answer  they  were  put  into  the  strong 
house,  and  there  they  lie,  chained  to  a  log,  at  this 


How  he  Succored  the  Princess  again    131 

minute.  Pity  it  is,  and  shame,  I  hold,  for  I  am  a 
Dane  myself;  and  pity,  too,  that  such  a  bonny 
lass  should  go  to  an  unkempt  Welshman  like  this, 
instead  of  a  tight,  smart  Viking's  son,  like  the 
Waterford  lad." 

The  stranger  answered  nothing:  but  kept  his 
eyes  upon  the  princess,  till  she  looked  at  him 
steadfastly  in  return. 

She  turned  pale  and  red  again:  but  after  a 
while  she  spoke. 

"  There  is  a  stranger  there ;  and  what  his  rank 
may  be  I  know  not :  but  he  has  been  thrust  down 
to  the  lowest  seat,  in  a  house  that  used  to  honor 
strangers,  instead  of  treating  them  like  slaves. 
Let  him  take  this  dish  from  my  hand,  and  eat 
joyfully,  lest  when  he  goes  home  he  may  speak 
scorn  of  bridegroom  and  bride,  and  our  Cornish 
weddings." 

The  servant  brought  the  dish  down :  he  gave  a 
look  at  the  stranger's  shabby  dress,  turned  up  his 
nose,  and  pretending  to  mistake,  put  the  dish  into 
the  hand  of  the  Dane. 

"  Hold,  lads,"  quoth  the  stranger.  "  If  I  have 
ears,  that  was  meant  for  me." 

He  seized  the  platter  with  both  hands,  and 
therewith  the  hands  both  of  the  Cornishman  and 
of  the  Dane.  There  was  a  struggle ;  but  so  bitter 
was  the  stranger's  gripe,  that  (says  the  chronicler) 
the  blood  burst  from  the  nails  of  both  his  opponents. 

He  was  called  a  "savage,"  a  "devil  in  man's 
shape,"  and  other  dainty  names,  but  he  was  left  to 
eat  his  squab  pie  in  peace. 

"  Patience,  lads,"  quoth  he,  as  he  filled  his  mouth. 
"Before  I  take  my  pleasure  at  this  wedding,  I  will 
hand  my  own  dish  round  as  well  as  any  of  you." 


132  Hereward  the  Wake 

Whereat  men  wondered,  but  held  their  tongues. 

And  when  the  eating  was  over  and  the  drinking 
began,  the  princess  rose,  and  came  round  to  drink 
the  farewell  health. 

With  her  maids  behind  her,  and  her  harper  be- 
fore her  (so  was  the  Cornish  custom),  she  pledged 
one  by  one  each  of  the  guests,  slave  as  well  as  free, 
while  the  harper  played  a  tune. 

She  came  down  at  last  to  the  strangers.  Her 
face  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  red  with  weeping. 

She  rilled  a  cup  of  wine,  and  one  of  her  maids 
offered  it  to  the  stranger. 

He  put  it  back  courteously,  but  firmly.  "  Not 
from  your  hand,"  said  he. 

A  growl  against  his  bad  manners  rose  straight- 
way ;  and  the  minstrel,  who  (as  often  happened  in 
those  days)  was  jester  likewise,  majde  merry  at  his 
expense,  and  advised  the  company  to  turn  the  wild 
beast  out  of  the  hall. 

"  Silence,  fool !  "  said  the  princess.  "  Why 
should  he  know  our  west-country  ways?  He 
may  take  it  from  my  hand,  if  not  from  hers." 

And  she  held  out  to  him  the  cup  herself. 

He  took  it,  looking  her  steadily  in  the  face ;  and 
it  seemed  to  the  minstrel  as  if  their  hands  lingered 
together  round  the  cup-handle,  and  that  he  saw  the 
glitter  of  a  ring. 

Like  many  another  of  his  craft  before  and  since, 
he  was  a  vain,  meddlesome  vagabond,  and  must 
needs  pry  into  a  secret  which  certainly  did  not 
concern  him. 

So  he  could  not  leave  the  stranger  in  peace; 
and  knowing  that  his  privileged  calling  protected 
him  from  that  formidable  fist,  he  never  passed  him 
by  without  a  sneer  or  a  jest,  as  he  wandered  round 


How  he  Succored  the  Princess  again    133 

the  table,  offering  his  harp,  in  the  Cornish  fashion, 
to  any  one  who  wished  to  play  and  sing. 

"  But  not  to  you,  Sir  Elf-locks :  he  that  is  rude 
to  a  pretty  girl  when  she  offers  him  wine,  is  too 
great  a  boor  to  understand  my  trade." 

"  It  is  a  fool's  trick,"  answered  the  stranger  at 
last,  "  to  put  off  what  you  must  do  at  last.  If  I 
had  but  the  time,  I  would  pay  you  for  your  tune 
with  a  better  one  than  you  ever  heard." 

"  Take  the  harp,  then,  boor  I  "  said  the  minstrel, 
with  a  laugh  and  a  jest. 

The  stranger  took  it,  and  drew  from  it  such 
music  as  made  all  heads  turn  toward  him  at  once. 
Then  he  began  to  sing,  sometimes  by  himself;  and 
sometimes  his  comrades,  "  more  Girviorum  triplici- 
ter  canentes"  joined  their  voices  in  a  Penmen's  three- 
man-glee. 

In  vain  the  minstrel,  jealous  for  his  own  credit, 
tried  to  snatch  the  harp  away.  The  stranger  sang 
on,  till  all  hearts  were  softened ;  and  the  princess, 
taking  the  rich  shawl  from  her  shoulders,  threw  it 
over  those  of  the  stranger,  saying  that  it  was  a  gift 
too  poor  for  such  a  scald. 

"  Scald  !  "  roared  the  bridegroom  (now  well  in  his 
cups)  from  the  head  of  the  table ;  "  ask  what  thou 
wilt,  short  of  my  bride  and  my  kingdom,  and  it  is 
thine." 

"  Give  me,  then,  Hannibal  Grylls,  King  of 
Marazion,  the  Danes  who  came  from  Ranald  of 
Waterford." 

"  You  shall  have  them !  Pity  that  you  have 
asked  for  nothing  better  than  such  tarry  ruffians." 

A  few  minutes  after,  the  minstrel,  bursting  with 
jealousy  and  rage,  was  whispering  in  Hannibal's 
ear. 


134  Hereward  the  Wake 

The  hot  old  Punic1  blood  flushed  up  in  his 
cheeks,  and  his  thin  Punic  lips  curved  into  a  snaky 
smile.  Perhaps  the  old  Punic  treachery  in  his 
heart;  for  all  that  Hannibal  was  heard  to  reply 
was,  "  We  must  not  disturb  the  good-fellowship  of 
a  Cornish  wedding." 

The  stranger,  nevertheless,  and  the  princess, 
likewise,  had  seen  that  bitter  smile. 

Men  drank  hard  and  long  that  night :  and  when 
daylight  came,  the  strangers  were  gone. 

In  the  morning  the  marriage  ceremony  was  per- 
formed; and  then  began  the  pageant  of  leading 
home  the  bride.  The  minstrels  went  first,  harping 
and  piping :  then  King  Hannibal,  carrying  his 
bride  behind  him  on  a  pillion;  and  after  them  a 
string  of  servants  and  men-at-arms,  leading  coun- 
try ponies  laden  with  the  bride's  dower.  Along 
with  them,  unarmed,  sulky,  and  suspicious,  walked 
the  forty  Danes,  who  were  informed  that  they 
should  go  to  Marazion,  and  there  be  shipped  off 
for  Ireland. 

Now,  as  all  men  know,  those  parts  of  Cornwall, 
flat  and  open  furze-downs  aloft,  are  cut,  for  many 
miles  inland,  by  long  branches  of  tide  river,  walled 
in  by  woods  and  rocks;  and  by  crossing  one  or 
more  of  these,  the  bridal  party  would  save  many  a 
mile  on  their  road  towards  the  west. 

So  they  had  timed  their  journey  by  the  tides ; 
lest,  finding  low  water  in  the  rivers,  they  should 
have  to  wade  to  the  ferryboats  waist-deep  in  mud ; 
and  going  down  the  steep  hillside,  through  oak, 
and  ash,  and  hazel-copse,  they  entered,  as  many 

1  Hannibal,  still  a  common  name  in  Cornwall,  is  held  —  and 
not  unlikely  —  to  have  been  introduced  there  by  ancient  Phoeni- 
cian colonists. 


How  he  Succored  the  Princess  again    135 

as  could,  a  great  flat-bottomed  barge,  and  were 
rowed  across  some  quarter  of  a  mile,  to  land 
under  a  jutting  crag,  and  go  up  again  by  a  similar 
path  into  the  woods. 

So  the  first  boat-load  went  up,  the  minstrels  in 
front  harping  and  piping  till  the  greenwood  rang ; 
King  Hannibal  next,  with  his  bride;  and  behind 
him  spearmen  and  axemen,  with  a  Dane  between 
every  two. 

When  they  had  risen  some  two  hundred  feet, 
and  were  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  Hannibal 
turned,  and  made  a  sign  to  the  men  behind  him. 

Then  each  pair  of  them  seized  the  Dane  between 
them,  and  began  to  bind  his  hands  behind  his 
back. 

"  What  will  you  do  with  us?  " 

"  Send  you  back  to  Ireland,  —  a  king  never 
breaks  his  word,  —  but  pick  out  your  right  eyes 
first,  to  show  your  master  how  much  I  care  for  him. 
Lucky  for  you  that  I  leave  you  an  eye  apiece,  to 
find  your  friend  the  harper,  whom,  if  I  catch,  I  flay 
alive." 

"  You  promised !  "  cried  the  princess. 

"  And  so  did  you,  traitress  !  "  and  he  griped  her 
arm,  which  was  round  his  waist,  till  she  screamed. 
"  So  did  you  promise :  but  not  to  me.  And  you 
shall  pass  your  bridal  night  in  my  dog-kennel, 
after  my  dog-whip  has  taught  you  not  to  give  rings 
again  to  wandering  harpers." 

The  wretched  princess  shuddered ;  for  she  knew 
too  well  that  such  an  atrocity  was  easy  and  com- 
mon enough.  She  knew  it  well.  Why  should  she 
not?  The  story  of  the  Cid's  daughters  and  the 
Knights  of  Carrion ;  the  far  more  authentic  one  of 
Robert  of  Belesme ;  and  many  another  ugly  tale 


136  Hereward  the  Wake 

of  the  early  middle  age,  will  prove  but  too  certainly 
that,  before  the  days  of  chivalry  began,  neither 
youth,  beauty,  nor  the  sacred  ties  of  matrimony, 
could  protect  women  from  the  most  horrible  out- 
rages at  the  hands  of  those  who  should  have  been 
their  protectors. 

But  the  words  had  hardly  passed  the  lips  of 
Hannibal,  ere  he  reeled  in  the  saddle,  and  fell  to 
the  ground  with  a  javelin  through  his  heart. 

A  strong  arm  caught  the  princess.  A  voice 
which  she  knew  bade  her  have  no  fear. 

"  Bind  your  horse  to  a  tree,  for  we  shall  want 
him ;  and  wait." 

Three  well-armed  men  rushed  on  the  nearest 
Cornishmen,  and  hewed  them  down.  A  fourth  un- 
bound the  Dane,  and  bade  him  catch  up  a  weapon 
and  fight  for  his  life. 

A  second  pair  were  despatched,  a  second  Dane 
freed,  ere  a  minute  was  over;  the  Cornishmen, 
struggling  up  the  narrow  path  toward  the  shouts 
above,  were  overpowered  in  detail  by  continually 
increasing  numbers ;  and  ere  half  an  hour  was  over, 
the  whole  party  were  freed,  mounted  on  the  ponies, 
and  making  their  way  over  the  downs  toward  the 
west. 

"  Noble,  noble  Hereward  !  —  The  Wake  in- 
deed !  "  said  the  princess,  as  she  sat  behind  him 
on  Hannibal's  horse.  "  I  knew  you  from  the  first 
moment;  and  my  nurse  knew  you  too.  Is  she 
here?  Is  she  safe?" 

"  I  have  taken  care  of  that.  She  has  done  us 
too  good  service  to  be  left  here  and  be  hanged." 

"I  knew  you,  in  spite  of  your  hair,  by  your 
eyes." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hereward.     "  It  is  not  every  man 


How  he  Succored  the  Princess  again    137 

who  carries  one  gray  eye  and  one  blue.  The  more 
difficult  for  me  to  go  mumming  when  I  need." 

"  But  how  came  you  hither,  of  all  places  in  the 
world?" 

"  When  you  sent  your  nurse  to  me  last  night,  to 
warn  me  that  treason  was  abroad,  it  was  easy  for 
me  to  ask  your  road  to  Marazion  ;  and  easier  too, 
when  I  found  that  you  would  go  home  the  very 
way  we  came,  to  know  that  I  must  make  my  stand 
here  or  nowhere." 

"  The  way  you  came?  Then  where  are  we  going 
now?" 

"  Beyond  Marazion,  to  a  little  cove  —  I  cannot 
tell  its  name.  There  lies  Sigtryg  your  betrothed, 
and  three  good  ships  of  war." 

"There?  Why  did  he  not  come  for  me  him- 
self ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  we  knew  nothing  of  what  was 
toward.  We  meant  to  have  sailed  straight  up  your 
river  to  your  father's  town,  and  taken  you  out  with 
a  high  hand.  We  had  sworn  an  oath  —  which,  as 
you  saw,  I  kept  —  neither  to  eat  nor  drink  in  your 
house,  save  out  of  your  own  hands.  But  the  easterly 
wind  would  not  let  us  round  the  Lizard ;  so  we  put 
into  that  cove,  and  there  I  and  these  two  lads,  my 
nephews,  offered  to  go  forward  as  spies,  while 
Sigtryg  threw  up  an  earthwork,  and  made  a  stand 
against  the  Cornish.  We  meant  merely  to  go  back 
to  him,  and  give  him  news.  But  when  I  found  you 
as  good  as  wedded,  I  had  to  do  what  I  could,  while 
I  could ;  and  I  have  done  it,  like  a  Wake  as  I  am." 

"  You  have,  my  noble  and  true  champion,"  said 
she,  kissing  him. 

"  Humph  !  "  quoth  Hereward,  laughing.  "  Do 
not  tempt  me  by  being  too  grateful.  It  is  hard 

Vol.  12— G 


138  Hereward  the  Wake 

enough  to  gather  honey,  like  the  bees,  for  other 
folks  to  eat.  What  if  I  kept  you  myself,  now  I 
have  got  you  ?  " 

"Hereward?" 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  fear,  pretty  lady.  I  have  other 
things  to  wake  over  than  making  love  to  you  — 
and  one  is,  how  we  are  to  get  to  our  ships,  and, 
moreover,  past  Marazion  town." 

And  hard  work  they  had  to  get  thither.  The 
county  was  soon  roused  and  up  in  arms;  and  it  was 
only  by  wandering  a  three  days'  circuit,  through 
bogs  and  moors,  till  the  ponies  were  utterly  tired 
out,  and  left  behind  (the  bulkier  part  of  the  dowry 
being  left  with  them),  that  they  made  their  ap- 
pearance on  the  shore  of  Mount's  Bay,  Hereward 
leading  the  princess  in  triumph  upon  Hannibal's 
horse. 

After  which  they  all  sailed  away  for  Ireland,  and 
there,  like  young  Beichan  — 

"  Prepared  another  wedding, 
With  all  their  hearts  so  full  of  glee." 

And  this  is  the  episode  of  the  Cornish  Princess, 
as  tofd  (the  outlines  of  it  at  least)  by  Richard  of 
Ely,  after  Leofric  the  mass-priest's  manuscript 


CHAPTER  VI 

HOW  HEREWARD  WAS  WRECKED  UPON  THE 
FLANDERS   SHORE 

HEREWARD  had  drunk  his  share  at  Sigtryg's 
wedding.  He  had  helped  to  harry  the 
lands  of  Feargus  till  (as  King  Ranald  had  threat- 
ened) there  was  not  a  sucking  pig  left  in  Ivark,  and 
the  poor  folk  died  of  famine,  as  they  did  about 
every  seven  years ;  he  had  burst  (says  the  chron- 
icler) through  the  Irish  camp  with  a  chosen  band 
of  Berserkers,  slain  Feargus  in  his  tent,  brought  off 
his  war-horn  as  a  trophy,  and  cut  his  way  back  to 
the  Danish  army  —  a  feat  in  which  the  two  Siwards 
were  grievously  wounded ;  and  had  in  all  things 
shown  himself  a  daring  and  wakeful  captain,  as 
careless  of  his  own  life  as  of  other  folks'. 

Then  a  great  home-sickness  had  seized  him. 
He  would  go  back  and  see  the  old  house,  and  the 
cattle  pastures,  and  the  meres  and  fens  of  his  boy- 
hood. He  would  see  his  widowed  mother.  Per- 
haps her  heart  was  softened  to  him  by  now,  as  his 
was  toward  her :  and  if  not,  he  could  show  her 
that  he  could  do  without  her ;  that  others  thought 
him  a  fine  fellow  if  she  did  not.  Hereward  knew 
that  he  had  won  honor  and  glory  for  himself; 
that  the  Wake's  name  was  in  the  mouths  of  all 
warriors  and  sea-rovers  round  the  coasts  as  the 
most  likely  young  champion  of  the  time,  able  to 


140  Hereward  the  Wake 

rival,  if  he    had  the  opportunity,  the  prowess  of 
Harold  Hardraade  himself.     Yes,  he  would  go  and 
see  his  mother :  he  would  be  kind  if  she  was  kind  ; 
if  she  were  not,  he  would- boast  and  swagger,  as  he 
was  but  too  apt  to  do.     That  he  should  go  back  at 
the  risk  of  his  life;  that  any  one  who  found  him  on 
English  ground   might  kill  him ;   and  that  many 
would  certainly  try  to  kill  him,  he  knew  very  well. 
But  that  only  gave  special  zest  to  the  adventure. 
Martin  Lightfoot  heard  this  news  with  joy. 
"  I  have  no  more  to  do  here,"  said  he.     "  I  have 
searched  and  asked  far  and  wide  for  the  man  I 
want,  but  he  is  not  on  the  Irish  shores.     Some  say 
he  is  gone   to  the  Orkneys,  some   to  Denmark. 
Never  mind;  I  shall  find  him  before  I  die." 
"  And  for  whom  art  looking?  " 
"  For  one  Thord  Gunlaugsson,  my  father." 
"  And  what  wantest  thou  with  him  ?  " 
"  To  put  this  through  his  brain."   And  he  showed 
his  axe. 

"Thy  father's  brain?" 

"  Look  you,  lord.  A  man  owes  his  father  naught, 
and  his  mother  all.  At  least,  so  hold  I.  '  Man 
that  is  of  woman  born,'  say  all  the  world ;  and 
they  say  right.  Now,  if  any  man  hang  up  that 
mother  by  hands  and  feet,  and  flog  her  to  death, 
is  not  he  that  is  of  that  mother  born  bound  to 
revenge  her  upon  any  man,  and  all  the  more  if 
that  man  had  first  his  wicked  will  of  that  poor 
mother?  Considering  that  last,  lord,  I  do  not 
know  but  what  I  am  bound  to  avenge  my  mother's 
shame  upon  the  man,  even  if  he  had  never  killed 
her.  No,  lord,  you  need  not  try  to  talk  this  out  of 
my  head.  It  has  been  there  nigh  twenty  years ; 
and  I  say  it  over  to  myself  every  night  before  I 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      141 

sleep,  lest  I  should  forget  the  one  thing  which  I 
must  do  before  I  die.  Find  him  I  will,  and  find 
him  I  shall,  if  there  be  justice  in  heaven  above." 

So  Hereward  asked  Ranald  for  ships,  and  got  at 
once  two  good  vessels,  as  payment  for  his  doughty 
deeds. 

One  he  christened  the  Garpike,  from  her  nar- 
row build  and  long  beak,  and  the  other  the  Otter, 
because,  he  said,  whatever  she  grappled  she  would 
never  let  go  till  she  heard  the  bones  crack.  They 
were  excellent  new  "  snekrs,"  nearly  eighty  feet 
long  each;  with  double  banks  for  twelve  oars 
aside  in  the  waist,  which  was  open,  save  a  fighting 
gangway  along  the  sides;  with  high  poop  and 
forecastle  decks;  and  with  one  large  sail  apiece, 
embroidered  by  Sigtryg's  princess  and  the  other 
ladies,  with  a  huge  white  bear,  which  Hereward 
had  chosen  as  his  ensign. 

As  for  men,  there  were  fifty  fellows  as  desperate 
as  Hereward  himself,  to  take  service  with  him  for 
that  or  any  other  quest.  So  they  ballasted  their 
ships  with  great  pebbles,  stowed  under  the  thwarts, 
to  be  used  as  ammunition  in  case  of  boarding; 
and  over  them  the  barrels  of  ale,  and  pork,  and 
meal,  well  covered  with  tarpaulins.  They  stowed 
in  the  cabins  fore  and  aft  their  weapons  —  swords, 
spears,  axes,  bows,  chests  of  arrow-heads,  leather 
bags  of  bowstrings,  mail-shirts  and  helmets,  and 
fine  clothes  for  holidays  and  fighting  days.  They 
hung  their  shields,  after  the  old  fashion,  out-board 
along  the  gunnel,  and  a  right  gay  show  they  made ; 
and  so  rowed  out  of  Waterford  harbor  amid  the 
tears  of  the  ladies  and  the  cheers  of  the  men. 

But,  as  it  befell,  the  voyage  did  not  prosper. 
Hereward  found  his  vessels  under-manned,  and  had 


142  Hereward  the  Wake 

to  sail  northward  for  fresh  hands.  He  got  none 
in  Dublin,  for  they  were  all  gone  to  the  Welsh 
marches  to  help  Earl  Alfgar  and  King  Griffin. 
So  he  went  on  through  the  Hebrides,  intending,  of 
course,  to  plunder  as  he  went :  but  there  he  got 
but  little  booty,  and  lost  several  men.  So  he  went 
on  again  to  the  Orkneys  to  try  for  fresh  hands 
from  the  Norse  earls  thereof:  but  there  befell  a 
fresh  mishap.  They  were  followed  by  a  whale, 
which  they  made  sure  was  a  witch-whale,  and 
boded  more  ill  luck;  and  accordingly  they  were 
struck  by  a  storm  in  the  Pentland  Firth,  and  the 
poor  Garpike  went  on  shore  on  Hoy,  and  was  left 
there  for  ever  and  a  day,  her  crew  being  hardly 
saved,  and  very  little  of  her  cargo. 

However,  the  Otter  was  now  not  only  manned, 
but  over-manned ;  and  Hereward  had  to  leave  a 
dozen  stout  fellows  with  Earl  Bruce  in  Kirkwall, 
and  sailed  southward  again,  singing  cheerily  to  his 
men  — 

*'  Lightly  the  long-snake 
Leaps  after  tempests, 
Gayly  the  sun-gleam 
Glows  after  rain. 
In  labor  and  daring 
Lies  luck  for  all  mortals, 
Foul  winds  and  foul  witch-wives 
Fray  women  alone." 

But  their  mishaps  were  not  over  yet.  They 
were  hardly  out  of  Stronsay  Firth  when  they  saw 
the  witch-whale  again,  following  them  up,  rolling, 
and  spouting,  and  breaching,  in  most  uncanny 
wise.  Some  said  that  they  saw  a  gray  woman  on 
his  back ;  and  they  knew,  possibly  from  the  look 
of  the  sky,  but  certainly  from  the  whale's  behavior, 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      143 

that  there  was  more  heavy  weather  yet  coming 
from  the  northward. 

From  that  day  forward  the  whale  never  left 
them,  nor  the  wild  weather  neither.  They  were 
beaten  out  of  all  reckoning.  Once  they  thought 
they  saw  low  land  to  the  eastward,  but  what  or 
where,  who  could  tell?  and  as  for  making  it,  the 
wind  which  had  blown  hard  from  northeast,  backed 
against  the  sun  and  blew  from  west;  from  which, 
as  well  as  from  the  witch-whale,  they  expected 
another  gale  from  north  and  round  to  northeast. 

The  men  grew  sulky  and  fearful.  Some  were 
for  trying  to  run  the  witch  down  and  break  her 
back,  as  did  Frithiof  in  like  case,  when  hunted  by 
a  whale  with  two  hags  upon  his  back  — an  excellent 
recipe  in  such  cases,  but  somewhat  difficult  in  a 
heavy  sea.  Others  said  that  there  was  a  doomed 
man  on  board,  and  proposed  to  cast  lots  till  they 
found  him  out,  and  cast  him  into  the  sea,  as  a 
sacrifice  to  ^Egir  the  wave-god.  But  Hereward 
scouted  that  as  unmanly  and  cowardly,  and  sang  — 

"  With  blood  of  my  bold  ones, 
With  bale  of  my  comrades, 
Thinks  j£gir,  brine-thirsty, 
His  throat  he  can  slake? 
Though  salt  spray,  shrill-sounding, 
Sweep  round  in  swan's-flights, 
True  hearts,  troth-plighted, 
Together  we  '11  die." 

At  last,  after  many  days,  their  strength  was  all 
but  worn  out.  They  had  long  since  given  over 
rowing,  and  contented  themselves  with  running 
under  a  close-reefed  canvas  whithersoever  the 
storm  should  choose.  At  night  a  sea  broke  over 
them,  and  would  have  swamped  the  Otter,  had  she 


144  Hereward  the  Wake 

not  been  the  best  of  sea-boats.  But  she  only 
rolled  the  lee  shields  into  the  water  and  out  again, 
shook  herself  and  went  on.  Nevertheless,  there 
were  three  men  on  the  poop  when  the  sea  came 
in,  who  were  not  there  when  it  went  out. 

Wet  and  wild  dawned  that  morning,  showing 
naught  but  gray  sea  and  gray  air.  Then  sang 
Hereward  — 

"  Cheerily,  my  sea-cocks, 
Crow  for  the  day-dawn. 
Weary  and  wet  are  we, 
Water  beladen. 
Wetter  our  comrades, 
Whelmed  by  the  witch-whales. 
Us  ^Egir  granted 
Grudging,  to  Gondul, 
Doomed  to  die  dry-shod, 
Daring  the  foe.  " 

Whereat  the  hearts  of  the  men  were  much  cheered. 

All  of  a  sudden,  as  is  the  wont  of  gales  at  dawn, 
the  clouds  rose,  tore  up  into  ribbons,  and  with  a 
fierce  black  shower  or  two,  blew  clean  away ;  dis- 
closing a  bright  blue  sky,  a  green  rolling  sea,  and 
a  few  miles  off  to  leeward  a  pale  yellow  line,  seen 
only  as  they  topped  a  wave,  but  seen  only  too 
well.  To  keep  the  ship  off  shore  was  impossible ; 
and  as  they  drifted  nearer  and  nearer,  the  line  of 
sand-hills  rose,  uglier  and  more  formidable,  through 
the  gray  spray  of  the  surf. 

"  We  shall  die  on  shore,  but  not  dry-shod,"  said 
Martin.  "  Do  any  of  you  knights  of  the  tar  brush 
know  whether  we  are  going  to  be  drowned  in 
Christian  waters  ?  I  should  like  a  mass  or  two  for 
my  soul,  and  shall  die  the  happier  within  sight  of 
a  church  tower." 

"  One  dune  is  as  like  another  as  one  pea ;  we 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      145 

may  be  anywhere  between  the  Texel  and  Cap  Gris 
Nez,  but  I  think  nearer  the  latter  than  the  former." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  us,"  said  another.  "  If 
we  had  gone  ashore  among  those  Frieslanders,  we 
should  have  been  only  knocked  on  the  head  out- 
right; but  if  we  fall  among  the  Frenchmen  we 
shall  be  clapped  in  prison  strong,  and  tortured  till 
we  find  ransom." 

"  I  don't  see  that,"  said  Martin.  "  We  can  all 
be  drowned  if  we  like,  I  suppose?" 

"  Drowned  we  need  not  be,  if  we  be  men,"  said 
the  old  sailing-master  to  Hereward.  "  The  tide  is 
full  high,  and  that  gives  us  one  chance  for  our 
lives.  Keep  her  head  straight,  and  row  like  fiends 
when  we  are  once  in  the  surf,  and  then  beach  her 
up  high  and  dry,  and  take  what  befalls  after." 

And  what  was  likely  to  befall  was  ugly  enough. 
Then,  as  centuries  after,  all  wrecks  and  wrecked 
men  were  public  prey ;  shipwrecked  mariners  were 
liable  to  be  sold  as  slaves;  and  the  petty  counts 
of  the  French  and  Flemish  shores  were  but  too 
likely  to  extract  ransom  by  prison  and  torture,  as 
Guy,  Earl  of  Ponthieu  would  have  done  (so  at 
least  William,  Duke  of  Normandy  hinted)  by 
Harold  Godwinsson,  had  not  William,  for  his  own 
politic  ends,  begged  the  release  of  the  shipwrecked 
earl. 

Already  they  had  been  seen  from  the  beach. 
The  country  folk,  who  were  prowling  about  the 
shore  after  the  waifs  of  the  storm,  deserted  jetsam 
and  lagend,  and  crowded  to  meet  the  richer  prize 
which  was  coming  in  flotsam,  to  become  jetsam  in 
its  turn. 

"  Axemen  and  bowmen,  put  on  your  harness, 
and  be  ready;  but  neither  strike  nor  shoot  till  I 


146  Hereward  the  Wake 

give  the  word.  We  must  land  peaceably  if  we 
can;  if  not,  we  will  die  fighting." 

So  said  Hereward,  and  took  the  rudder  into  his 
own  hand.  "  Now  then,"  as  she  rushed  into  the 
breakers,  "pull  together,  rowers  all,  and  with  a 
will." 

The  men  yelled,  and  sprang  from  the  thwarts  as 
they  tugged  at  the  oars.  The  sea  boiled  past 
them,  surged  into  the  waist,  blinded  them  with 
spray.  The  Otter  grazed  the  sand  once,  twice, 
thrice,  leaping  forward  gallantly  each  time;  and 
then,  pressed  by  a  huge  wave,  drove  high  and  dry 
upon  the  beach,  as  the  oars  snapped  right  and  left, 
and  the  men  tumbled  over  each  other  in  heaps. 

The  peasants  swarmed  down  like  flies  to  a  car- 
case: but  they  recoiled  as  there  rose  over  the 
forecastle-bulwarks,  not  the  broad  hats  of  peaceful 
buscarles,  but  peaked  helmets,  round  red  shields, 
and  glittering  axes.  They  drew  back,  and  one  or 
two  arrows  flew  from  the  crowd  into  the  ship.  But 
at  Hereward's  command  no  arrows  were  shot  in 
answer. 

"  Bale  her  out  quietly ;  and  let  us  show  these 
fellows  that  we  are  not  afraid  of  them.  That  is 
the  best  chance  of  peace." 

At  this  moment  a  mounted  party  came  down 
between  the  sand-hills :  it  might  be  some  twenty 
strong.  Before  them  rode  a  boy  on  a  jennet,  and 
by  him  a  clerk,  as  he  seemed,  upon  a  mule.  They 
stopped  to  talk  with  the  peasants,  and  then  to 
consult  among  themselves. 

Suddenly  the  boy  turned  from  his  party;  and 
galloping  down  the  shore,  while  the  clerk  called 
after  him  in  vain,  reined  up  his  horse  fetlock  deep 
in  water,  within  ten  yards  of  the  ship's  bows. 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      147 

"  Yield  yourselves !  "  he  shouted,  in  French,  as 
he  brandished  a  hunting  spear.  "  Yield  yourselves, 
or  die !  " 

Hereward  looked  at  him  smiling,  as  he  sat  there, 
keeping  the  head  of  his  frightened  horse  toward 
the  ship  with  hand  and  heel,  his  long  locks  stream- 
ing in  the  wind,  his  face  full  of  courage  and  com- 
mand, and  of  honesty  and  sweetness  withal;  and 
thought  that  he  had  never  seen  so  fair  a  lad. 

"And  who  art  thou,  thou  pretty,  bold  boy?" 
asked  Hereward,  in  French. 

"  I,"  said  he,  haughtily  enough,  as  resenting 
Hereward's  familiar  "  thou,"  "  am  Arnoul,1  grand- 
son and  heir  of  Baldwin,  Marquis  of  Flanders,  and 
lord  of  this  land.  And  to  his  grace  I  call  on  you 
to  surrender  yourselves." 

Hereward  looked,  not  only  with  interest,  but 
respect,  upon  the  grandson  of  one  of  the  most 
famous  and  prosperous  of  northern  potentates,  the 
descendant  of  the  mighty  Charlemagne  himself. 
He  turned  and  told  the  men  who  the  boy  was. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  trick,"  quoth  one,  "  to 
catch  that  young  whelp,  and  keep  him  as  a 
hostage." 

"  Here  is  what  will  have  him  on  board  before 
he  can  turn,"  said  another,  as  he  made  a  running- 
noose  in  a  rope. 

"  Quiet,  men !  Am  I  master  in  this  ship,  or 
you?" 

1  The  French  language  was  at  this  epoch  taking  the  place  of 
the  Teutonic  in  Southern  Flanders :  and  the  boy  would  call  him- 
self Arnoul,  while  old  men  would  persist  in  calling  him  Arnulf, 
after  the  fashion  of  that  Count  of  Guisnes,  who,  when  upon  his 
death-bed,  heard  his  nephew  speak  to  him  in  French,  and  told 
him  that  he  had  no  more  time  for  trifles  and  jests,  —  "  Nugis  et 
jocis  se  non  posse  vacare.  Lamb.  Ard.  in  Kervyn  de  Lettenhoven 
Hist,  de  Flandre." 


148  Hereward  the  Wake 

Hereward  saluted  the  lad  courteously.  "  Verily 
the  blood  of  Baldwin  of  the  Iron  Arm  has  not 
degenerated.  I  am  happy  to  behold  so  noble  a 
son,  of  so  noble  a  race." 

"  And  who  are  you,  who  speak  French  so  well, 
and  yet  by  your  dress  are  neither  French  nor 
Fleming?  " 

"  I  am  Harald  Naemansson,  the  Viking ;  and 
these  my  men.  I  am  here,  sailing  peaceably  for 
England ;  as  for  yielding  —  mine  yield  to  no  living 
man,  but  die  as  we  are,  weapon  in  hand.  I  have 
heard  of  your  grandfather,  that  he  is  a  just  man 
and  a  bountiful;  therefore  take  this  message  to 
him,  young  sir.  If  he  have  wars  toward,  I  and  my 
men  will  fight  for  him  with  all  our  might,  and  earn 
hospitality  and  ransom  with  our  only  treasure, 
which  is  our  sword.  But  if  he  be  at  peace,  then 
let  him  bid  us  go  in  peace,  for  we  are  Vikings,  and 
must  fight,  or  rot  and  die." 

"You  are  Vikings?"  cried  the  boy,  pressing  his 
horse  into  the  foam  so  eagerly,  that  the  men,  mis- 
taking his  intent,  had  to  be  repressed  again  by 
Hereward.  "  You  are  Vikings !  Then  come  on 
shore  and  welcome.  You  shall  be  my  friends.  You 
shall  be  my  brothers.  I  will  answer  to  my  grand- 
father. I  have  longed  to  see  Vikings.  I  long  to 
be  a  Viking  myself." 

"  By  the  hammer  of  Thor,"  cried  the  old  master, 
"  and  thou  wouldst  make  a  bonny  one,  my  lad." 

Hereward  hesitated ;  delighted  with  the  boy,  but 
by  no  means  sure  of  his  power  to  protect  them. 

But  the  boy  rode  back  to  his  companions,  and 
talked  and  gesticulated  eagerly. 

Then  the  clerk  rode  down,  and  talked  with 
Hereward. 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      149 

"Are  you  Christians?"  shouted  he,  before  he 
would  adventure  himself  near  the  ship. 

"  Christians  we  are,  sir  clerk,  and  dare  do  no 
harm  to  a  man  of  God." 

The  clerk  rode  nearer;  his  handsome  palfrey, 
furry  cloak,  rich  gloves  and  boots,  moreover  his 
air  of  command,  showed  that  he  was  no  common 
man. 

"I,"  said  he,  "am  the  abbot  of  St.  Bertin  of 
Sithiu,  and  tutor  of  yonder  prince.  I  can  bring 
down,  at  a  word,  against  you,  the  chatelain  of  St. 
Omer  with  all  his  knights,  beside  knights  and 
men-at-arms  of  my  own.  But  I  am  a  man  of 
peace,  and  not  of  war;  and  would  have  no  blood 
shed  if  I  can  help  it.v 

"  Then  make  peace,"  said  Hereward.  "  Your 
lord  may  kill  us  if  he  will,  or  have  us  for  his 
guests  if  he  will.  If  he  does  the  first,  we  shall  kill, 
each  of  us,  a  few  of  his  men  before  we  die ;  if  the 
latter,  we  shall  kill  a  few  of  his  foes.  If  you  be  a 
man  of  God,  you  will  counsel  him  accordingly." 

"  Alas  !  alas !  "  said  the  abbot,  with  a  shudder, 
"  that,  ever  since  Adam's  fall,  sinful  man  should 
talk  of  nothing  but  slaying  and  being  slain ;  not 
knowing  that  his  soul  is  slain  already  by  sin,  and 
that  a  worse  death  awaits  him  hereafter  than  that 
death  of  the  body,  of  which  he  makes  so  light !  " 

"  A  very  good  sermon,  my  lord  abbot,  to  listen 
to  next  Sunday  morning:  but  we  are  hungry, 
and  wet,  and  desperate  just  now;  and  if  you  do 
not  settle  this  matter  for  us,  our  blood  will  be  on 
your  head  —  and  maybe  your  own  likewise." 

The  abbot  rode  out  of  the  water  faster  than  he 
had  ridden  in;  and  a  fresh  consultation  ensued, 
after  which  the  boy,  with  a  warning  gesture  to  his 


150  Hereward  the  Wake 

companions,  turned  and  galloped  away  through 
the  sand-hills. 

"  He  has  gone  to  his  grandfather  himself,  I 
verily  believe,"  quoth  Hereward. 

They  waited  for  some  two  hours,  unmolested ; 
and,  true  to  their  policy  of  seeming  recklessness, 
shifted  and  dried  themselves  as  well  as  they  could ; 
ate  what  provisions  were  unspoiled  by  the  salt 
water,  and,  broaching  the  last  barrel  of  ale,  drank 
healths  to  each  other  and  to  the  Flemings  on  shore. 

At  last  down  rode  with  the  boy  a  noble-looking 
man,  and  behind  him  knights  and  men-at-arms. 
He  announced  himself  as  the  Chatelain  of  St. 
Omer,1  and  repeated  the  demand  to  surrender. 

"There  is  no  need  for  it,"  said  Hereward.  "We 
are  already  that  young  prince's  guests.  He  has 
said  that  we  shall  be  his  friends  and  brothers.  He 
has  said  that  he  will  answer  to  his  grandfather,  the 
great  marquis,  whom  I  and  mine  shall  be  proud 
to  serve.  I  claim  the  word  of  a  descendant  of 
Charlemagne." 

"  And  you  shall  have  it ! "  cried  the  boy. 
"  Chatelain  !  abbot !  these  men  are  mine.  They 
shall  come  with  me,  and  lodge  in  St.  Bertin." 

"  Heaven  forfend  !  "  murmured  the  abbot. 

"They  will  be  safe,  at  least,  within  your  ram- 
parts," whispered  the  chatelain. 

"  And  they  shall  tell  me  about  the  sea.  Have  I 
not  told  you  how  I  longed  for  Vikings ;  how  I  will 
have  Vikings  of  my  own,  and  sail  the  seas  with 

1  The  chronicler  says,  "  Manasar  Count  of  that  land."  But 
I  can  find  no  such  person  in  history.  There  was  a  Manasses, 
Count  of  Guisnes,  about  that  time ;  but,  as  will  be  seen,  it  could 
not  have  been  he  who  received  Hereward.  I  have  supposed, 
therefore,  as  most  probable,  that  the  act  was  that  of  the  Chatelain 
of  St.  Omer.  One  Waleric  held  that  post  in  1072. 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      151 

them,  like  my  uncle  Robert,  and  go  to  Spain  and 
fight  the  Moors,  and  to  Constantinople  and  marry 
the  Kaiser's  daughter?  Come,"  he  cried  to  Here- 
ward,  "  come  on  shore,  and  he  that  touches  you  or 
your  ship  touches  me !  " 

"  Sir  chatelain  and  my  lord  abbot,"  said  Here- 
ward,  "  you  see  that,  Viking  though  I  be,  I  am  no 
barbarous  heathen,  but  a  French-speaking  gentle- 
man like  yourselves.  It  had  been  easy  for  me, 
had  I  not  been  a  man  of  honor,  to  have  cast  a 
rope,  as  my  sailors  would  have  had  me  do,  over 
that  young  boy's  fair  head,  and  haled  him  on 
board,  to  answer  for  my  life  with  his  own.  But  I 
loved  him  at  first  sight,  and  trusted  him,  as  I  would 
an  angel  out  of  heaven ;  and  I  trust  him  still.  To 
him,  and  him  only,  will  I  yield  myself,  on  condi- 
tion that  I  and  my  men  shall  keep  all  our  arms 
and  treasure,  and  enter  his  service,  to  fight  his 
foes  and  his  grandfather's  wheresoever  they  will, 
by  land  or  sea." 

"  Fair  sir,"  said  the  abbot,  "  pirate  though  you 
call  yourself,  you  speak  so  courtly  and  clerkly,  that 
I,  too,  am  inclined  to  trust  you  ;  and  if  my  young 
lord  will  have  it  so,  into  St.  Bertin  I  will  receive 
you,  till  our  lord  the  marquis  shall  give  orders 
about  you  and  yours." 

So  promises  were  given  all  round ;  and  Here- 
ward  explained  the  matter  to  the  men,  without 
whose  advice  (for  they  were  all  as  free  as  himself) 
he  could  not  act. 

"  Needs  must,"  grunted  they,  as  they  packed  up 
each  his  little  valuables. 

Then  Hereward  sheathed  his  sword,  and  leaping 
from  the  bow,  came  up  to  the  boy. 

"  Put  your  hands  between  his,  fair  sir,"  said  the 
chatelain. 


152  Hereward  the  Wake 

"That  is  not  the  manner  of  Vikings." 

And  he  took  the  boy's  right  hand,  and  grasped 
it  in  the  plain  English  fashion. 

"There  is  the  hand  of  an  honest  man.  Come 
down,  men,  if  you  be  wise ;  and  take  this  young 
lord's  hand,  and  serve  him  in  the  wars ;  as  I  shall 
do." 

One  by  one  the  men  came  down  ;  and  each  took 
Arnoul's  hand,  and  shook  it  till  the  lad's  face  grew 
red.  But  none  of  them  bowed,  or  made  obeisance. 
They  looked  the  boy  full  in  the  face,  and  as  they 
stepped  back,  stared  round  upon  the  ring  of  armed 
men  with  a  smile  and  something  of  a  swagger. 

"  These  are  they  who  bow  to  no  man,  and  call 
no  man  master,"  whispered  the  abbot. 

And  so  they  were :  and  so  are  their  descendants 
of  Scotland  and  Northumbria,  unto  this  very  day. 

The  boy  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  walked 
among  them  and  round  them  in  delight.  He 
admired  and  handled  their  double  axes;  their 
short  sea-bows  of  horn  and  deer-sinew ;  their  red 
Danish  coats;  their  black  sea-cloaks,  fastened  on 
the  shoulder  with  rich  brooches ;  and  the  gold  and 
silver  bracelets  on  their  wrists.  He  wondered  at 
their  long  shaggy  beards,  and  still  more  at  the 
blue  patterns  with  which  the  English  among  them, 
Hereward  especially,  were  tattooed  on  throat,  and 
arm,  and  knee. 

"Yes,  you  are  Vikings — just  such  as  my  uncle 
Robert  tells  me  of." 

Hereward  knew  well  the  exploits  of  Robert  le 
Prison  in  Spain  and  Greece.  "  I  trust  that  your 
noble  uncle,"  he  asked,  "is  well?  He  was  one  of 
us  poor  sea-cocks,  and  sailed  the  swan's  path  gal- 
lantly, till  he  became  a  mighty  prince.  Here 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      153 

is  a  man  here  who  was  with  your  noble  uncle  in 
Spain." 

And  he  thrust  forward  the  old  master. 

The  boy's  delight  knew  no  bounds.  He  should 
tell  him  all  about  that  in  St.  Bertin. 

Then  he  rode  back  to  the  ship,  and  round  and 
round  her  (for  the  tide  by  that  time  had  left  her 
high  and  dry),  and  wondered  at  her  long,  snake- 
like  lines,  and  carven  stem  and  stern. 

"  Tell  me  about  this  ship.  Let  me  go  on  board 
of  her.  I  have  never  seen  a  ship  inland  at  Mons 
there;  and  even  here  there  are  only  heavy  ugly 
busses,  and  little  fishing-boats.  No.  You  must  be 
all  hungry  and  tired.  We  will  go  to  St.  Bertin  at 
once,  and  you  shall  be  feasted  royally.  Hearken, 
villains !  "  shouted  he  to  the  peasants.  "  This  ship 
belongs  to  the  fair  sir  here  —  my  guest  and  friend ; 
and  if  any  man  dares  to  steal  from  her  a  stave  or  a 
nail,  I  will  have  his  thief's  hand  cut  off." 

"The  ship,  fair  lord,"  said  Hereward,  "is  yours, 
not  mine.  You  should  build  twenty  more  after  her 
pattern,  and  man  them  with  such  lads  as  these,  and 
then  go  down  to 

'Miklagard  and  Spanialand, 
That  lie  so  far  on  the  lee,  O ! ' 

as  did  your  noble  uncle  before  you." 

And  so  they  marched  inland,  after  the  boy  had 
dismounted  one  of  his  men,  and  put  Hereward  on 
the  horse.  f 

"  You  gentlemen  of  the  sea  can  ride  as  well  as 
sail,"  said  the  chatelain,  as  he  remarked  with  some 
surprise  Hereward's  perfect  seat  and  hand. 

"  We  should  soon  learn  to  fly  likewise,"  laughed 
Hereward,  "  if  there  were  any  booty  to  be  picked 


154  Hereward  the  Wake 

up  in  the  clouds  there  overhead ;  "  and  he  rode  on 
by  Arnoul's  side,  as  the  lad  questioned  him  about 
the  sea,  and  nothing  else. 

"  Ah,  my  fair  boy,"  said  Hereward  at  last,  "  look 
there,  and  let  those  be  Vikings  who  must." 

And  he  pointed  to  the  rich  pastures,  broken  by 
strips  of  cornland  and  snug  farms,  which  stretched 
between  the  sea  and  the  great  forest  of  Flanders. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

But  Hereward  was  silent.  It  was  so  like  his  own 
native  fens.  For  a  moment  there  came  over  him 
the  longing  for  a  home.  To  settle  down  in  such  a 
fair  fat  land ;  and  call  good  acres  his  own ;  and 
marry;  and  beget  stalwart  sons,  to  till  the  old 
estate  when  he  could  till  no  more.  Might  not 
that  be  a  better  life  —  at  least  a  happier  one  —  than 
restless,  homeless,  aimless  adventure?  And  now 
— just  as  he  had  had  a  hope  of  peace  —  a  hope  of 
seeing  his  own  land,  his  own  folk,  perhaps  of  mak- 
ing peace  with  his  mother,  and  his  king,  the  very 
waves  would  not  let  him  rest,  but  sped  him  forth, 
a  storm-tossed  waif,  to  begin  life  anew,  fighting  he 
cared  not  whom  or  why,  in  a  strange  land. 

So  he  was  silent  and  sad  withal. 

"What  does  he  mean?"  asked  the  boy  of  the 
abbot. 

"  He  seems  a  wise  man :  let  him  answer  for  him- 
self." 

The  boy  asked  once  more. 

"  Lad  !  lad  !  "  said  Hereward,  waking  as  from  a 
dream.  "  If  you  be  heir  to  such  a  fair  land  as  that, 
thank  God  there ;  and  pray  to  Him  that  you  may 
rule  it  justly,  and  keep  it  in  peace,  as  they  say 
your  grandfather  and  your  father  do:  and  leave 
glory,  and  fame,  and  the  Vikings'  bloody  trade,  to 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked      155 

those  who  have  neither  father  nor  mother,  wife  nor 
land,  but  live  like  the  wolf  of  the  wood,  from  one 
meal  to  the  next." 

"  I  thank  you  for  those  words,  Sieur  Heraud," 
said  the  good  abbot,  while  the  boy  went  on 
abashed,  and  Hereward  himself  was  startled  at  his 
own  saying,  and  rode  silent  till  they  crossed  the 
drawbridge  of  St.  Bertin,  and  entered  that  ancient 
fortress,  so  strong  that  it  was  the  hiding-place  in 
war  time  for  all  the  treasures  of  the  country,  and 
so  sacred  withal  that  no  woman,  dead  or  alive,  was 
allowed  to  defile  it  by  her  presence ;  so  that  the 
wife  of  Baldwin  the  Bold,  ancestor  of  Arnoul,  wish- 
ing to  be  buried  by  the  side  of  her  husband,  had 
to  remove  his  corpse  from  St.  Bertin  to  the  Abbey 
of  Blandigny,  where  the  Counts  of  Flanders  lay  in 
glory  for  many  a  generation. 

The  pirates  entered,  not  without  gloomy  distrust, 
the  gates  of  that  consecrated  fortress ;  while  the 
monks  in  their  turn  were  (and  with  some  reason) 
considerably  frightened  when  they  were  asked  to 
entertain  as  guests  forty  Norse  rovers.  Loudly 
did  the  elder  among  them  bewail  (in  Latin,  lest 
their  guests  should  understand  too  much)  the 
present  weakness  of  their  monastery,  where  St. 
Bertin  and  St.  Omerwere  left  to  defend  themselves 
and  their  monks  against  the  wicked  world  outside. 
Far  different  had  been  their  case  some  hundred 
and  seventy  years  before.  Then  St.  Valeri  and  St. 
Riquier  of  Ponthieu,  transported  thither  from  their 
own  resting-places  in  France  for  fear  of  the  invad- 
ing Northmen,  had  joined  their  suffrages  and 
merits  to  those  of  St.  Bertin  and  his  whilom  ser- 
vants, with  such  success  that  the  abbey  had  never 
been  defiled  by  the  foot  of  the  heathen.  But  alas ! 


156  Hereward  the  Wake 

the  saints  (that  is,  their  bodies)  after  a  while  be- 
came home-sick;  and  St.  Valeri,  appearing  in  a 
dream  to  Hugh  Capet,  bade  him  bring  them  back  to 
France  in  spite  of  Arnulf,  count  of  those  parts, 
who  wished  much  to  retain  so  valuable  an  addition 
to  his  household  gods. 

But  in  vain.  Hugh  Capet  was  a  man  who  took 
few  denials.  With  knights  and  men-at-arms  he 
came,  and  Count  Arnulf  had  to  send  home  the 
holy  corpses  with  all  humility,  and  leave  St.  Bertin 
and  St.  Omer  to  themselves. 

Whereon  St.  Valeri  appeared  in  a  dream  to 
Hugh  Capet,  and  said  unto  him,  "Because  thou 
hast  zealously  done  what  I  commanded,  thou  and 
thy  successors  shall  reign  in  the  kingdom  of  France 
to  everlasting  generations."  l 

However,  there  was  no  refusing  the  grandson 
and  heir  of  Count  Baldwin ;  and  the  hearts  of  the 
monks  were  comforted  by  hearing  that  Hereward 
was  a  good  Christian,  and  that  most  of  his  crew 
had  been  at  least  baptized.  The  abbot  therefore 
took  courage,  and  admitted  them  into  the  hospice, 
with  solemn  warnings  as  to  the  doom  which  they 
might  expect  if  they  took  the  value  of  a  horse-nail 
from  the  patrimony  of  the  blessed  saint.  Was  he 
less  powerful  or  less  careful  of  his  own  honor  than 
St.  Lieven  of  Holthem,  who,  not  more  than  fifty 
years  before,  had  struck  stone-blind  four  soldiers 
of  the  Emperor  Henry's  who  had  dared,  after 
warning,  to  plunder  the  altar  ?2  Let  them  remem- 
ber, too,  the  fate  of  their  own  forefathers,  the 
heathens  of  the  North,  and  the  check  which,  one 

1  Histoire  des  Comtes  de  Plandre,  par  E.  le  Glay.     E.  gestis 
SS.  Richarii  et  Walerici. 

2  Histoire  des  Comtes  de  Flandre,  par.  E.  le  Glay. 


How  Hereward  was  Wrecked     157 

hundred  and  seventy  years  before,  they  had  received 
under  those  very  walls.  They  had  exterminated 
the  people  of  Walcheren;  they  had  taken  prisoner 
Count  Regnier;  they  had  burned  Ghent,  Bruges, 
and  St.  Omer  itself,  close  by;  they  had  left 
naught  between  the  Scheldt  and  the  Somme  save 
stark  corpses  and  blackened  ruins.  What  could 
withstand  them  till  they  dared  to  lift  audacious 
hands  against  the  heavenly  lord  who  sleeps  there 
in  Sithiu?  Then  they  poured  down  in  vain  over 
the  Heilig-Veld,  innumerable  as  the  locusts.  Poor 
monks,  strong  in  the  protection  of  the  holy  Bertin, 
sallied  out  and  smote  them  hip  and  thigh,  singing 
their  psalms  the  while.  The  ditches  of  the  fortress 
were  filled  with  unbaptized  corpses;  the  piles  of 
vine-twigs  which  they  lighted  to  burn  down  the 
gates,  turned  their  flames  into  the  Norsemen's  faces 
at  the  bidding  of  St.  Bertin;  and  they  fled  from 
that  temporal  fire  to  descend  into  that  which  is 
eternal,  while  the  gates  of  the  pit  were  too  narrow 
for  the  multitude  of  their  miscreant  souls.1 

So  the  Norsemen  heard,  and  feared;  and  only 
cast  longing  eyes  at  the  gold  and  tapestries  of  the 
altars,  when  they  went  in  to  mass. 

For  the  good  abbot,  gaining  courage  still  further, 
had  pointed  out  to  Hereward  and  his  men  that  it 
had  been  surely  by  the  merits  and  suffrages  of  the 
blessed  St.  Bertin  that  they  had  escaped  a  watery 
grave. 

Hereward  and  his  men,  for  their  part,  were  not 
inclined  to  deny  the  theory.  That  they  had  mi- 
raculously escaped,  from  the  accident  of  the  tide 
being  high,  they  knew  full  well;  and  that  St. 
Bertin  should  have  done  them  the  service  was 

1  This  gallant  feat  was  performed  in  A.  D.  891. 


158  Hereward  the  Wake 

probable  enough.  He,  of  course,  was  lord  and 
master  in  his  own  country,  and  very  probably  a 
few  miles  out  to  sea  likewise. 

So  Hereward  assured  the  abbot  that  he  had  no 
mind  to  eat  St.  Bertin's  bread,  or  accept  his  favors 
without  paying  honestly  for  them ;  and  after  mass 
he  took  from  his  shoulders  a  handsome  silk  cloak 
(the  only  one  he  had),  with  a  great  Scotch  Cairn- 
gorm brooch,  and  bade  them  buckle  it  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  great  image  of  St.  Bertin. 

At  which  St.  Bertin  was  so  pleased  (being,  like 
many  saints,  male  and  female,  somewhat  proud 
after  their  death  of  the  finery  which  they  despised 
during  life),  that  he  appeared  that  night  to  a  cer- 
tain monk,  and  told  him  that  if  Hereward  would 
continue  duly  to  honor  him,  the  blessed  St. 
Bertin,  and  his  monks  of  that  place,  he  would,  in 
his  turn,  ensure  him  victory  in  all  his  battles  by 
land  and  sea. 

After  which  Hereward  stayed  quietly  in  the 
abbey  certain  days ;  and  young  Arnoul,  in  spite  of 
all  remonstrances  from  the  abbot,  would  never 
leave  his  side  till  he  had  heard  from  him  and  from 
his  men  as  much  of  their  adventures  as  they 
thought  it  prudent  to  relate. 


CHAPTER   VII 

HOW   HEREWARD  WENT   TO  THE  WAR   AT   GUISNES 

THE  dominion  of  Baldwin  of  Lille — Baldwin 
the  Debonair — Marquis  of  Flanders,  and 
just  then  the  greatest  potentate  in  Europe  after  the 
Kaiser  of  Germany  and  the  Kaiser  of  Constanti- 
nople, extended  from  the  Somme  to  the  Scheldt, 
including  thus  much  territory  which  now  belongs 
to  France.  His  forefathers  had  ruled  there  ever 
since  the  days  of  the  "Foresters"  of  Charlemagne, 
who  held  the  vast  forests  against  the  heathens  of 
the  fens ;  and  of  that  famous  Baldwin  Bras-de-fer, 
who,  when  the  foul  fiend  rose  out  of  the  Scheldt, 
and  tried  to  drag  him  down,  tried  cold  steel  upon 
him  (being  a  practical  man),  and  made  his  ghostly 
adversary  feel  so  sorely  the  weight  of  the  "iron 
arm,"  that  he  retired  into  his  native  mud — or 
even  lower  still. 

He,  like  a  daring  knight  as  he  was,  ran  off  with1 
his  (so  some  say)  early  love,  Judith,  daughter  of 
Charles  the  Bald  of  France,  a  descendant  of  Charle- 
magne himself.  Married  up  to  Ethel wulf  of  Eng- 
land, and  thus  stepmother  of  Alfred  the  Great — 
after  her  husband's  death  behaving,  alas  for  her! 
not  over  wisely  or  well,  she  had  verified  the 
saying : 

"  Nous  revenons  toujours 
A  nos  premiers  amours," 

and  ran  away  with  Baldwin. 


160  Hereward  the  Wake 

Charles,  very  wroth  that  one  of  his  earls,  a  mere 
lieutenant  and  creature,  should  dare  to  marry  a 
daughter  of  Charlemagne's  house,  would  have 
attacked  him  with  horse  and  foot,  fire  and  sword, 
had  not  Baldwin  been  the  only  man  who  could 
defend  his  northern  frontier  against  the  heathen 
Norsemen. 

The  Pope,  as  Charles  was  his  good  friend,  ful- 
minated against  Baldwin  the  excommunication 
destined  for  him  who  stole  a  widow  for  his  wife, 
and  all  his  accomplices. 

Baldwin  and  Judith  went  straight  to  Rome,  and 
told  their  story  to  the  Pope. 

He,  honest  man,  wrote  to  Charles  the  Bald  a 
letter  which  still  remains,  —  alike  merciful,  senti- 
mental, and  politic,  with  its  usual  ingrained  element 
of  what  we  now  call  (from  the  old  monkish  word 
"  cantare  "  )  cant.  .*"  Baldwin's  horrible  wicked- 
ness there  is  no  doubt.  Of  his  repentance  (in  all 
matters  short  of  amendment  of  life,  by  giving  up 
the  fair  Judith),  still  less.  But  the  Pope  has 
"another  motive  for  so  acting.  He  fears  lest 
Baldwin,  under  the  weight  of  Charles's  wrath  and 
indignation,  should  make  alliance  with  the  Nor- 
mans, enemies  of  God  and  the  holy  Church ;  and 
thus  an  occasion  arise  of  peril  and  scandal  for  the 
people  of  God  whom  Charles  ought  to  rule,"  etc. 
etc.,  which,  if  it  happened,  it  would  be  worse  for 
them  and  for  Charles's  own  soul. 

To  which  very  sensible  and  humane  missive 
(times  and  creeds  being  considered),  Charles 
answered,  after  pouting  and  sulking,  by  making 
Baldwin  bona-fide  king  of  all  between  Somme 
and  Scheldt,  and  leaving  him  in  peace  with  Judith, 
the  wicked  and  the  fair. 


How   Hereward  Went  to  the  War    161 

This  all  happened  about  A.  D.  863.  Two  hun- 
dred years  after,  there  ruled  over  that  same  land 
Baldwin  the  Debonair,  as  "  Marquis  of  the 
Flamands." 

Baldwin  had  had  his  troubles.  He  had  fought 
the  Count  of  Holland.  He  had  fought  the  Em- 
peror of  Germany;  during  which  war  he  had 
burnt  the  cathedral  of  Nimeguen,  and  did  other 
unrighteous  and  unwise  things;  and  had  been 
beaten  after  all. 

Baldwin  had  had  his  troubles,  and  had  deserved 
them.  But  he  had  had  his  glories,  and  had  de- 
served them  likewise.  He  had  cut  the  Foss6 
Neuf,  or  new  dyke,  which  parted  Artois  from 
Flanders.  He  had  so  beautified  the  cathedral  of 
Lille,  that  he  was  called  Baldwin  of  Lille  to  his 
dying  day.  He  had  married  Adela,  the  queen- 
countess,  daughter  of  the  King  of  France.  He 
had  become  tutor  of  Philip,  the  young  king,  and 
more  or  less  thereby  regent  of  the  North  of  France, 
and  had  fulfilled  his  office  wisely  and  well.  He 
had  married  his  eldest  son,  Baldwin  the  Good,  to 
the  terrible  sorceress  Richilda,  heiress  of  Hain- 
hault,  wherefore  the  bridegroom  was  named  Bald- 
win of  Mons.  He  had  married  one  of  his  daughters, 
Matilda,  to  William  of  Normandy,  afterwards  the 
Conqueror ;  and  another,  Judith,  to  Tosti  Godwins- 
son,  the  son  of  the  great  Earl  Godwin  of  England. 
She  afterwards  married  Welf,  Duke  of  Bavaria; 
whereby,  it  may  be,  the  blood  of  Baldwin  of 
Flanders  runs  in  the  veins  of  Queen  Victoria. 

And  thus  there  were  few  potentates  of  the  North 
more  feared  and  respected  than  Baldwin,  the  good- 
natured  Earl  of  Flanders. 

But  one  sore  thorn  in  the  side  he  had,  which 

Vol.  12— H 


1 62  Hereward  the  Wake 

other  despots  after  him  shared  with  him,  and  had 
even  worse  success  in  extracting ;  —  namely,  the 
valiant  men  of  Scaldmariland,  which  we  now  call 
Holland.  Of  them  hereafter.  At  the  moment  of 
Hereward's  arrival,  he  was  troubled  with  a  lesser 
thorn,  the  Count  of  Guisnes  (seemingly,  that 
Manasses  whom  Richard  of  Ely  confounds  with 
the  chatelain,  or  other  lawful  commander,  of  St. 
Omer),  who  would  not  pay  him  up  certain  dues, 
and  otherwise  acknowledge  his  sovereignty. 

Therefore  when  the  chatelain  of  St  Omer  sent 
him  word  to  Bruges  that  a  strange  Viking  had 
landed  with  his  crew,  calling  himself  Harold  Nae- 
mansson,  and  offering  to  take  service  with  him,  he 
returned  for  answer  that  the  said  Harold  might 
make  proof  of  his  faith  and  prowess  upon  the  said 
count,  in  which,  if  he  acquitted  himself  like  a  good 
knight,  Baldwin  would  have  further  dealings  with 
him. 

So  the  chatelain  of  St.  Omer,  with  all  his 
knights  and  men-at-arms,  and  Hereward  with  his 
sea-cocks,  marched  northwest  up  to  Guisnes,  with 
little  Arnoul  cantering  alongside  in  high  glee ;  for 
it  was  the  first  war  he  had  ever  seen. 

And  they  came  to  the  castle  of  Guisnes,  and 
summoned  the  count,  by  trumpet  and  herald,  to 
pay  or  fight. 

Whereon,  the  count  preferring  the  latter,  certain 
knights  of  his  came  forth  and  challenged  the 
knights  of  St.  Omer  to  fight  them  man  to  man. 
Whereon  there  was  the  usual  splintering  of  lances 
and  slipping  up  of  horses,  and  hewing  at  heads  and 
shoulders  so  well  defended  in  mail  that  no  one  was 
much  hurt.  The  archers  and  arbalisters,  mean- 
while, amused  themselves  by  shooting  at  the  castle 


How  Hereward  Went  to  the  War    163 

walls,  out  of  which  they  chipped  several  small  pieces 
of  stone.  And  when  they  were  all  tired,  they  drew 
off  on  both  sides,  and  went  in  to  dinner. 

At  which  Hereward's  men,  who  were  accustomed 
to  a  more  serious  fashion  of  fighting,  stood  by, 
mightily  amused,  and  vowing  it  was  as  pretty  a 
play  as  ever  they  saw  in  their  lives. 

The  next  day  the  same  comedy  was  repeated. 

"  Let  me  go  in  against  those  knights,  sir  chate- 
lain,"  asked  Hereward,  who  felt  the  lust  of  battle 
tingling  in  him  from  head  to  heel ;  "  and  try  if  I 
cannot  do  somewhat  toward  deciding  all  this.  If 
we  fight  no  faster  than  we  did  yesterday,  our  beards 
will  be  grown  down  to  our  knees  before  we  take 
Guisnes." 

"  Let  my  Viking  go  !  "  cried  Arnoul.  "  Let  me 
see  him  fight !  "  as  if  he  had  been  a  pet  game-cock 
or  bull-dog. 

"You  can  break  a  lance,  fine  sir,  if  it  please 
you,"  said  the  chatelain. 

"  I  break  more  than  lances,"  quoth  Hereward,  as 
he  cantered  off. 

"  You,"  said  he  to  his  men,  "  draw  round  hither 
to  the  left;  and  when  I  drive  the  Frenchmen  to 
the  right,  make  a  run  for  it,  and  get  between  them 
and  the  castle  gate;  and  we  will  try  the  Danish 
axe  against  their  horses'  legs." 

Then  Hereward  spurred  his  horse,  shouting  "  A 
Wake  !  A  Wake  t  "  and  dashed  into  the  press ;  and 
therein  did  mightily,  like  any  Turpin  or  Roland, 
till  he  saw  lie  on  the  ground,  close  to  the  castle 
gate,  one  of  the  chatelain's  knights  with  four 
Guisnes  knights  around  him.  At  them  he  rode, 
and  slew  them  every  one;  and  mounted  the 
wounded  Fleming  on  his  own  horse  and  led  him 


164  Hereward  the  Wake 

across  the  field,  though  the  archers  shot  sore  at 
him  from  the  wall.  And  when  the  press  rode  at 
him,  his  Danish  men  got  between  them  and  the 
castle,  and  made  a  stand  to  cover  him.  Then  the 
Guisnes  knights  rode  at  them  scornfully,  crying  — 

"  What  footpad-churls  have  we  here,  who  fancy 
they  can  face  horsed  knights  ?  " 

But  they  did  not  know  the  stuff  of  the  Danish 
men ;  who  all  shouted  "  A  Wake  !  A  Wake  !  "  and 
turned  the  lances'  points  with  their  targets,  and 
hewed  off  the  horses'  heads,  and  would  have  hewed 
off  the  riders'  likewise,  had  not  Hereward  bid- 
den them  give  quarter,  according  to  the  civilized 
fashion  of  France  and  Flanders.  Whereon  all  the 
knights  who  were  not  taken  rode  right  and  left,  and 
let  them  pass  through  in  peace,  with  several  pris- 
oners, and  him  whom  Hereward  had  rescued. 

At  which  little  Arnoul  was  as  proud  as  if  he  had 
done  it  himself;  and  the  chatelain  sent  word  to 
Baldwin  that  the  newcomer  was  a  prudhomme  of 
no  common  merit;  while  the  heart  of  the  Count 
of  Guisnes  became  as  water ;  and  his  knights,  both 
those  who  were  captives  and  those  who  were  not, 
complained  indignantly  of  the  unchivalrous  trick 
of  the  Danes.  How  villainous  for  men  on  foot, 
not  only  to  face  knights,  but  to  bring  them  down 
to  their  own  standing  ground  by  basely  cutting  off 
their  horses'  heads ! 

To  which  Hereward  answered,  that  he  knew  the 
rules  of  chivalry  as  well  as  any  of  them :  but  he 
was  hired,  not  to  joust  at  a  tournament,  but  to 
make  the  Count  of  Guisnes  pay  his  lord  Baldwin, 
and  make  him  pay  he  would. 

The  next  day  he  bade  his  men  sit  still  and  look 
on,  and  leave  him  to  himself.  And  when  the 


How  Hereward  Went  to  the  War    165 

usual  "  monomachy"  began,  he  singled  out  the 
burliest  and  boldest  knight  whom  he  saw,  rode  up 
to  him  lance  point  in  air,  and  courteously  asked 
him  to  come  and  be  killed  in  fair  fight.  The 
knight  being,  says  the  chronicler,  "  magnificent  in 
valor  of  soul  and  counsel  of  war,  and  held  to  be  as 
a  lion  in  fortitude  throughout  the  army,"  and  see- 
ing that  Hereward  was  by  no  means  a  large  or  a 
heavy  man,  replied  as  courteously,  that  he  should 
have  great  pleasure  in  trying  to  kill  Hereward. 
On  which  they  rode  some  hundred  yards  out  of 
the  press,  calling  out  that  they  were  to  be  left 
alone  by  both  sides,  for  it  was  an  honorable  duel ; 
and,  turning  their  horses,  charged. 

After  which  act  they  found  themselves  and  their 
horses  all  four  in  a  row,  sitting  on  their  hind- 
quarters on  the  ground,  amid  the  fragments  of 
their  lances. 

"  Well  ridden !  "  shouted  they  both  at  once, 
as  they  leaped  up  laughing,  and  drew  their 
swords. 

After  which  they  hammered  away  at  each  other 
merrily  in  the  devil's  smithy.  The  sparks  flew; 
the  iron  rang;  and  all  men  stood  still  to  see  that 
gallant  fight. 

So  they  watched  and  cheered,  till  Hereward 
struck  his  man  such  a  blow  under  the  ear,  that  he 
dropped,  and  lay  like  a  log. 

"  I  think  I  can  carry  you,"  quoth  Hereward,  and 
picking  him  up,  he  threw  him  over  his  shoulder, 
and  walked  towards  his  men. 

"  Bear  and  bullock !  "  shouted  they  in  delight, 
laughing  at  the  likeness  between  Hereward's  atti- 
tude, and  that  of  a  bear  waddling  off  on  his  hind 
legs  with  his  prey  in  his  arms. 


1 66  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  He  should  have  killed  his  bullock  outright 
before  he  went  to  carry  him.  Look  there !  " 

And  the  knight,  awakening  from  his  swoon, 
struggled  violently  (says  the  chronicler)  to  escape. 

But  Hereward,  though  the  smaller,  was  the 
stronger  man ;  and  crushing  him  in  his  arms, 
walked  on  steadily. 

"  Knights  to  the  rescue  !  Hoibricht  is  taken  !  " 
shouted  they  of  Guisnes,  galloping  towards  him. 

"  A  Wake !  A  Wake  !  To  me,  Vikings  all !  " 
shouted  Hereward.  And  the  Danes  leaped  up,  and 
ran  towards  him,  axe  in  hand. 

The  chatelain's  knights  rode  up  likewise ;  and 
so  it  befell  that  Hereward  carried  his  prisoner 
safe  into  camp. 

"And  who  are  you,  gallant  knight?  "  asked  he 
of  his  prisoner. 

"  Hoibricht,  nephew  of  Eustace,  Count  of 
Guisnes." 

"So,  I  suppose  you  will  be  ransomed.  Till 
then Armorer !  " 

And  the  hapless  Hoibricht  found  himself  chained 
and  fettered,  and  sent  off  to  Hereward's  tent,  under 
the  custody  of  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"  The  next  day,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  the 
Count  of  Guisnes,  stupefied  with  grief  at  the  loss 
of  his  nephew,  sent  the  due  honor  and  service  to 
his  prince,  besides  gifts  and  hostages." 

And  so  ended  the  troubles  of  Baldwin  and 
Eustace  of  Guisnes. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOW  A  FAIR  LADY  EXERCISED  THE  MECHANICAL 
ART  TO  WIN  HEREWARD'S  LOVE 

IN  an  upper  room  of  her  mother's  house  in  St. 
Omer,  sat  the  fair  Torfrida,  alternately  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  and  at  a  book  of  mechanics. 
In  the  garden  outside,  the  wryneck  (as  it  is  his 
fashion  in  May)  was  calling  Pi-pi-pi  among  the 
gooseberry  bushes,  till  the  cob-walls  rang  again. 
In  the  book  was  a  Latin  recipe  for  drying  the  poor 
wryneck,  and  using  him  as  a  philtre  which  should 
compel  the  love  of  any  person  desired.  Mechan- 
ics, it  must  be  understood,  in  those  days  were  con- 
sidered as  identical  with  mathematics,  and  those 
again  with  astrology  and  magic ;  so  that  the  old 
chronicler,  who  says  that  Torfrida  was  skilled  in 
"  the  mechanic  art,"  uses  the  word  in  the  same 
sense  as  does  the  author  of  the  History  of  Ramsey, 
who  tells  us  how  a  certain  holy  bishop  of  St.  Dun- 
stan's  party,  riding  down  to  Corfe  through  the 
forest,  saw  the  wicked  queen-mother  Elfrida  (her 
who  had  St.  Edward  stabbed  at  Corfe  Gate)  exer- 
cising her  "  mechanic  art "  under  a  great  tree ;  in 
plain  English,  performing  heathen  incantations; 
and  how,  when  she  saw  that  she  was  discovered, 
she  tempted  him  to  deadly  sin:  but  when  she 
found  him  proof  against  allurement,  she  had  him 
into  her  bower ;  and  there  the  enchantress  and  her 


1 68  Hereward  the  Wake 

ladies  slew  him  by  thrusting  red-hot  bodkins  under 
his  arms,  so  that  the  blessed  man  was  martyred 
without  any  sign  of  wound.  Of  all  which  let  every 
man  believe  as  much  as  he  list. 

Torfrida  had  had  peculiar  opportunities  of  learn- 
ing mechanics.  The  fairest  and  richest  damsel  in 
St.  Omer,  she  had  been  left  early  by  her  father  an 
orphan,  to  the  care  of  a  superstitious  mother,  and 
of  a  learned  uncle,  the  Abbot  of  St.  Bertin.  Her 
mother  was  a  Provengale,  one  of  those  Arlesiennes 
whose  dark  Greek  beauty  still  shines,  like  dia- 
monds set  in  jet,  in  the  doorways  of  the  quaint  old 
city.  Gay  enough  in  her  youth,  she  had,  like  a 
true  southern  woman,  taken  to  superstition  in  her 
old  age ;  and  spent  her  days  in  the  churches,  leav- 
ing her  daughter  to  do  and  learn  what  she  would. 
Torfrida's  nurse,  moreover,  was  a  Lapp  woman, 
carried  off  in  some  pirating  foray,  and  skilled  in 
all  the  sorceries  for  which  the  Lapps  were  famed 
throughout  the  North;  Her  uncle,  partly  from 
good-nature,  partly  from  a  pious  hope  that  she 
might  enter  religion,  and  leave  her  wealth  to  the 
Church,  had  made  her  his  pupil,  and  taught  her 
the  mysteries  of  books ;  and  she  had  proved  to  be 
a  strangely  apt  scholar.  Grammar,  rhetoric,  Latin 
prose  and  poetry,  such  as  were  taught  in  those 
days,  she  mastered  ere  she  was  grown  up.  Then 
she  fell  upon  romance ;  and  Charlemagne  and  his 
Paladins,  the  heroes  of  Troy,  Alexander-  and  his 
generals,  peopled  her  imagination.  She  had  heard, 
too,  of  the  great  necromancer  Virgilius  (for  into 
such  the  middle  age  transformed  the  poet),  and, 
her  fancy  already  excited  by  her  Lapp  nurse's 
occult  science,  she  began  eagerly  to  court  forbid- 
den lore. 


The  Art  to  Win  Hereward's  Love     169 

Forbidden,  indeed,  was  magic  by  the  Church; 
but  as  a  reality,  not  as  an  imposture.  Those 
whose  consciences  were  tough  and  their  faith  weak, 
had  little  scruple  in  applying  to  a  witch,  and  ask- 
ing help  from  the  powers  below,  when  the  saints 
above  were  slack  to  hear  than.  Churchmen,  even, 
were  bold  enough  to  learn  the  mysteries  of  nature, 
Algebra,  Judicial  Astrology,  and  the  occult  powers 
of  herbs,  stones,  and  animals,  from  the  Mussulman 
doctors  of  Cordova  and  Seville ;  and,  like  Pope 
Gerbert,  mingle  science  and  magic  in  a  fashion 
excusable  enough  in  days  when  true  inductive 
science  did  not  exist. 

Nature  had  her  miraculous  powers  —  how  far 
good,  how  far  evil,  who  could  tell  ?  The  belief  that 
God  was  the  sole  maker  and  ruler  of  the  universe, 
was  confused  and  darkened  by  the  cross-belief  that 
the  material  world  had  fallen  under  the  dominion 
of  Satan  and  his  demons ;  that  millions  of  spirits, 
good  and  evil  in  every  degree,  exercised  continu- 
ally powers  over  crops  and  cattle,  mines  and  wells, 
storms  and  lightning,  health  and  disease.  Riches, 
honors,  and  royalties,  too,  were  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  powers  of  darkness.  For  that  genera- 
tion, which  was  but  too  apt  to  take  its  Bible  in 
hand  upside  down,  had  somehow  a  firm  faith  in 
the  word  oi  the  devil,  and  believed  devoutly  his 
somewhat  startling  assertion,  that  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world  were  his,  and  the  glory  of  them ;  for  to 
him  they  were  delivered,  and  to  whomsoever  he 
would  he  gave  them  :  while  it  had  a  proportionally 
weak  faith  in  our  Lord's  answer,  that  they  were  to 
worship  and  serve  the  Lord  God  alone.  How  far 
these  powers  extended,  how  far  they  might  be 
counteracted,  how  far  lawfully  employed,  were 


170  Hereward  the  Wake 

questions  which  exercised  the  minds  of  men,  and 
produced  a  voluminous  literature  for  several  centu- 
ries; till  the  search  died  out,  for  very  weariness 
of  failure,  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

The  Abbot  of  St.  Bertin,  therefore,  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  keep  in  his  private  library  more  than  one 
volume  which  he  would  not  have  willingly  lent  to 
the  simple  monks  under  his  charge ;  nor  to  Tor- 
frida  either,  had  she  not  acquired  so  complete  a 
command  over  the  good  old  man,  that  he  could 
deny  her  nothing. 

So  she  read  of  Gerbert,  Pope  Silvester  II.,  who 
had  died  only  a  generation  back :  how  (to  quote 
William  of  Malmesbury)  "  he  learned  at  Seville 
till  he  surpassed  Ptolemy  with  the  astrolabe, 
Alcandrus  in  astronomy,  and  Julius  Firmicus  in 
judicial  astrology;  how  he  learned  what  the  sing- 
ing and  flight  of  birds  portended,  and  acquired  the 
art  of  calling  up  spirits  from  hell;  and,  in  short, 
whatever  —  hurtful  or  healthful  —  human  curiosity 
had  discovered,  besides  the  lawful  sciences  of  arith- 
metic and  astronomy,  music  and  geometry ;  "  how 
he  acquired  from  the  Saracens  the  abacus  (a  count- 
ing table)  ;  how  he  escaped  from  the  Moslem  magi- 
cian, his  tutor,  by  making  a  compact  with  the  foul 
fiend,  and  putting  himself  beyond  the  power  of 
magic,  by  hanging  himself  under  a  wooden  bridge, 
so  as  to  touch  neither  earth  nor  water;  how  he 
taught  Robert  King  of  France,  and  Kaiser  Otto 
III.,  surnamed  "  The  wonder  of  the  world  ;  "  how 
he  made  an  hydraulic  organ  which  played  tunes 
by  steam,  standing  even  then  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Rheims ;  how  he  discovered  in  the  Campus  Mar- 
tius  at  Rome  wondrous  treasures,  and  a  golden 
king  and  queen,  golden  courtiers  and  guards,  all 


The  Art  to  Win  Hereward's  Love     171 

lighted  by  a  single  carbuncle,  and  guarded  by  a 
boy  with  a  bent  bow;  who,  when  Gerbert's  ser- 
vant stole  a  golden  knife,  shot  an  arrow  at  that 
carbuncle;  and  all  was  darkness,  and  yells  of 
demons. 

All  this  Torfrida  had  read ;  and  read,  too,  how 
Gerbert's  brazen  head  had  told  him  that  he  should 
be  pope,  and  not  die  till  he  had  sung  mass  at 
Jerusalem ;  and  how  both  had  come  true  —  the 
latter  in  mockery ;  for  he  was  stricken  with  deadly 
sickness  in  Rome,  as  he  sang  mass  at  the  church 
called  Jerusalem,  and  died  horribly,  tearing  him- 
self in  pieces. 

Which  terrible  warning  had  as  little  effect  on 
Torfrida  as  other  terrible  warnings  have  on  young 
folk,  who  are  minded  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree 
of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil. 

So  Torfrida  beguiled  her  lonely  life  in  that  dull 
town,  looking  out  over  dreary  flats  and  muddy 
dykes,  by  a  whole  dream-world  of  fantastic  imagi- 
nations, and  was  ripe  and  ready  for  any  wild  deed 
which  her  wild  brain  might  suggest. 

Pure  she  was  all  the  while,  generous  and  noble- 
hearted  ;  with  a  deep  and  sincere  longing  —  as 
one  soul  in  ten  thousand  has  —  after  knowledge 
for  its  own  sake :  but  ambitious  exceedingly,  and 
that  not  of  monastic  sanctity.  She  laughed  to 
scorn  the  notion  of  a  nunnery;  and  laughed  to 
scorn  equally  the  notion  of  marrying  any  knight, 
however  much  of  a  prudhomme,  whom  she  had 
yet  seen.  Her  uncle  and  Marquis  Baldwin  could 
have  between  them  compelled  her,  as  an  orphan 
heiress,  to  marry  whom  they  liked.  But  Tor- 
frida had  as  yet  managed  both  the  abbot  and  the 
marquis  successfully.  Lances  had  been  splin- 


1 72  Hereward  the  Wake 

tered,  helmets  split,  and  more  than  one  life  lost  in 
her  honor ;  but  she  had  only,  as  the  best  safeguard 
she  could  devise  given  some  hint  of  encourage- 
ment to  one  Ascelin,  a  tall  knight  of  St.  Valeri, 
the  most  renowned  and  courtly  bully  of  those 
parts,  by  bestowing  on  him  a  scrap  of  ribbon,  and 
bidding  him  keep  it  against  all  comers.  By  this 
means  she  ensured  the  personal  chastisement  of 
all  other  youths  who  dared  to  lift  their  eyes  to  her, 
while  she  by  no  means  bound  herself  to  her  spa- 
dassin  of  St.  Valeri.  The  method  was  rough; 
but  so  was  the  time,  and  what  better  could  a  poor 
lady  do  in  days  when  no  man's  life,  or  woman's 
honor,  was  safe,  unless  (as  too  many  were  forced  to 
do)  she  retired  into  a  cloister,  and  got  from  the 
Church  that  peace  which  this  world  certainly  could 
not  give,  and,  happily,  dared  not  take  away? 

The  arrival  of  Hereward  and  his  men  had,  of 
course,  stirred  the  great  current  of  her  life,  and, 
indeed,  that  of  St.  Omer,  usually  as  stagnant  as 
the  dykes  round  its  wall.  Who  the  unknown 
champion  was  (for  his  name  of  Naemansson 
showed  that  he  was  concealing  something  at  least), 
whence  he  had  come,  and  what  had  been  his 
previous  exploits,  busied  all  the  gossips  of  the 
town.  Would  he  and  his  men  rise  and  plunder  the 
abbey?  Was  not  the  chatelain  mad  in  leaving 
young  Arnoul  with  him  all  day?  Madder  still,  in 
taking  him  out  to  battle  against  the  Count  of 
Guisnes?  He  might  be  a  spy,  the  avant-courier 
of  some  great  invading  force.  He  was  come  to 
spy  out  the  nakedness  of  the  land,  and  would 
shortly  vanish,  to  return  with  Harold  Hardraade 
of  Norway,  or  Sweyn  of  Denmark,  and  all  their 
hosts.  Nay,  was  he  not  Harold  Hardraade  him- 


The  Art  to  Win  Hereward's  Love     173 

self  in  disguise?  And  so  forth.  All  which  Tor- 
frida  heard,  and  thought  within  herself  that,  be  he 
who  he  might,  she  should  like  to  look  on  him 
again. 

Then  came  the  news  how,  the  very  first  day 
that  he  had  gone  out  against  the  Count  of  Guisnes, 
he  had  gallantly  rescued  a  wounded  man.  A  day 
or  two  after  came  fresh  news  of  some  doughty 
deed ;  and  then  another  and  another.  And  when 
Hereward  returned,  after  a  week's  victorious  fight- 
ing, all  St.  Omer  was  in  the  street  to  stare  at 
him. 

Then  Torfrida  heard  enough,  and,  had  it  been 
possible,  more  than  enough,  of  Hereward  and  his 
prowess. 

And  when  they  came  riding  in,  the  great  mar- 
quis at  the  head  of  them  all,  with  Robert  le  Prison 
on  one  side  of  him,  and  on  the  other  Hereward,  as 
fresh  as  flowers  in  May,  Torfrida  looked  down  on 
him  out  of  her  little  lattice  in  the  gable,  and  loved 
him,  once  and  for  all,  with  all  her  heart  and  soul. 

And  Hereward  looked  up  at  her  and  her  dark 
blue  eyes  and  dark  raven  locks ;  and  thought  her 
the  fairest  thing  that  he  had  ever  seen,  and  asked 
who  she  might  be,  and  heard ;  and  as  he  heard, 
he  forgot  all  about  the  Sultan's  daughter,  and  the 
princess  of  Constantinople,  and  the  fairy  of  B roc he- 
liaunde,  and  all  the  other  pretty  birds  which  were 
still  in  the  bush  about  the  wide  world  :  and  thought 
for  many  a  day  of  naught  but  the  pretty  bird  which 
he  held  (so  conceited  was  he  of  his  own  powers  of 
winning  her)  there  safe  in  hand  in  St.  Omer. 

So  he  cast  about  to  see  her,  and  to  win  her  love. 
And  she  cast  about  to  see  him,  and  to  win  his 
love.  But  neither  saw  the  other  for  a  while ;  and 


174  Hereward  the  Wake 

it  might  have  been  better  for  one  of  them  had 
they  never  seen  each  other  again. 

If  Torfrida  could  have  foreseen,  and  foreseen, 

and  foreseen : why,  if  she  were  true  woman,  she 

would  have  done  exactly  what  she  did,  and  taken 
the  bitter  with  the  sweet,  the  unknown  with  the 
known,  as  we  all  must  do  in  life,  unless  we  wish  to 
live  and  die  alone. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOW  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  WAR  IN 
SCALDMARILAND 

IT  has  been  shown  how  the  Count  of  Guisnes 
had  been  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  Baldwin  of 
Lille,  and  how  that  thorn  was  drawn  out  by  Here- 
ward.  But  far  sharper  thorns  in  his  side,  which 
had  troubled  many  a  count  before,  and  were  des- 
tined to  trouble  others  afterward,  were  those 
unruly  Zeelanders,  or  Frisians,  who  dwelt  in  Scald- 
mariland,  "  the  land  of  the  meres  of  the  Scheldt." 
Beyond  the  vast  forests  of  Flanders,  in  morasses 
and  alluvial  islands  whose  names  it  is  impossible 
now  to  verify,  so  much  has  the  land  changed,  both 
by  inundations  and  by  embankments,  by  the  brute 
forces  of  nature  and  the  noble  triumphs  of  art, 
dwelt  a  folk,  poor  and  savage ;  living  mostly,  as 
in  Caesar's  time,  in  huts  raised  above  the  sea,  on 
piles  or  mounds  of  earth ;  often  without  cattle  or 
seed-field;  half  savage,  half  heathen:  but  free. 
Free,  with  the  divine  instinct  of  freedom,  and  all 
the  self-help  and  energy  which  spring  thereout. 
They  were  a  mongrel  race ;  and,  as  most  mon- 
grel races  are  (when  sprung  from  parents  not  too 
far  apart  in  blood),  a  strong  race;  the  remnant  of 
those  old  Frisians  and  Batavians,  who  had  defied, 


176  Hereward  the  Wake 

and  all  but  successfully  resisted,  the  power  of 
Rome;  mingled  with  fresh  crosses  of  Teutonic 
blood  from  Frank,  Sueve,  Saxon,  and  th«  other 
German  tribes,  who,  after  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  had  swept  across  the  land. 

Their  able  modern  historian  has  well  likened 
their  first  struggle  —  that  between  Civilis  and  the 
Romans,  to  their  last  —  that  between  William  the 
Silent  and  the  Spaniard.  It  was,  without  doubt, 
the  foreshadow  of  their  whole  history.  They  were 
distinguished,  above  most  European  races,  for 
sturdy  independence,  and  for  what  generally  ac- 
companies it  —  sturdy  common  sense.  They  could 
not  understand  why  they  should  obey  foreign 
Frank  rulers,  whether  set  over  them  by  Dagobert 
or  by  Charlemagne.  They  could  not  understand 
why  they  were  to  pay  tithes  to  foreign  Frank 
priests,  who  had  forced  on  them,  at  the  sword's 
point,  a  religion  which  they  only  half  believed  and 
only  half  understood.  Many  a  true,  holy  man 
preached  to  them  to  the  best  of  his  powers :  but 
the  cross  of  St.  Boniface  had  too  often  to  follow 
the  sword  of  Charles  Martel ;  and  for  every  Frisian 
who  was  converted  another  was  killed. 

"Free  Frisians,"  nevertheless,  they  remained, 
at  least  in  name  and  in  their  statute  book,  "  as 
long  as  the  wind  blows  out  of  the  clouds  and  the 
world  stands."  The  feudal  system  never  took 
root  in  their  soil.1  If  a  Frank  Count  was  to  gov- 
ern them,  he  must  govern  according  to  their  own 
laws.  Again  and  again  they  rebelled,  even  against 
that  seemingly  light  rule.  Again  and  again  they 
brought  down  on  themselves  the  wrath  of  their 
nominal  sovereigns,  the  Counts  of  Flanders ;  then 
1  Motley.  "  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic." 


How  Hereward  Went  to  the  War      177 

of  the  Kaisers  of  Germany ;  and,  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  of  the  Inquisition  itself.  Then  a  crusade 
was  preached  against  them  as  "  Stadings,"  heretics 
who  paid  no  tithes,  ill-used  monks  and  nuns,  and 
worshipped  (or  were  said  to  worship)  a  black  cat 
and  the  foul  fiend  among  the  meres  and  fens. 
Conrad  of  Marpurg,  the  brutal  Director  of  St. 
Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  burned  them  at  his  wicked 
will,  extirpating  it  may  be  heresy,  but  not  the 
spirit  of  the  race.  That  spirit,  crushed  down  and 
seemingly  enslaved  during  the  middle  age,  under 
Count  Dirk  and  his  descendants,  still  lived ;  des- 
tined at  last  to  conquer.  They  were  a  people 
who  had  determined  to  see  for  themselves  and  act 
for  themselves  in  the  universe  in  which  they  found 
themselves ;  and,  moreover  (a  necessary  corollary 
of  such  a  resolution),  to  fight  to  the  death  against 
any  one  who  interfered  with  them  in  so  doing. 

Again  and  again,  therefore,  the  indomitable 
spirit  rose,  founding  free  towns  with  charters  and 
guilds;  embanking  the  streams;  draining  the 
meres ;  fighting  each  other  and  the  neighboring 
princes;  till,  in  their  last  great  struggle  against 
the  Pope  and  Spain,  they  rose  once  and  for  all, 

"  Heated  hot  with  burning  fears, 
And  bathed  in  baths  of  hissing  tears, 
And  battered  with  the  strokes  of  doom 
To  shape  and  use," 

as  the  great  Protestant  Dutch  Republic. 

A  noble  errand  it  had  been  for  such  a  man  as 
Hereward  to  help  those  men  toward  freedom, 
instead  of  helping  Frank  counts  to  enslave  them ;  — 
men  of  his  own  blood,  with  laws  and  customs  like 
those  of  his  own  Anglo-Danes,  living  in  a  land  so 


178  Hereward  the  Wake 

exactly  like  his  own  that  every  mere  and  fen  and 
wood  reminded  him  of  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood. 
The  very  names  of  the  two  lands  were  alike  — 
"  Holland,"  the  hollow  land  —  the  one  of  England, 
the  other  of  Flanders. 

But  all  this  was  hidden  from  Hereward.  To  do 
as  he  would  be  done  by  was  a  lesson  which 
he  had  never  been  taught.  If  men  had  invaded 
his  land,  he  would  have  cried,  like  the  Frisians 
whom  he  was  going  to  enslave,  "  I  am  free  as  long 
as  the  wind  blows  out  of  the  clouds !  "  and  died 
where  he  stood.  But  that  was  not  the  least  reason 
why  he  should  not  invade  any  other  man's  land, 
and  try  whether  or  not  he,  too,  would  die  where 
he  stood.  To  him  these  Frieslanders  were  simply 
savages,  probably  heathens,  who  would  not  obey 
their  lawful  lord,  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian ; 
besides,  renown,  and  possibly  a  little  plunder, 
might  be  got  by  beating  them  into  obedience.  He 
knew  not  what  he  did ;  and  knew  not,  likewise,  that 
as  he  had  done  to  others,  so  would  it  be  done  to  him. 

Baldwin  had  at  that  time  made  over  his  trouble- 
some Hollanders  to  his  younger  son  Robert,  the 
Viking  whom  little  Arnoul  longed  to  imitate. 

Florent,  Count  of  Holland,  and  vassal  of  the  great 
marquis,  had  just  died,  leaving  a  pretty  young 
widow,  to  whom  the  Hollanders  had  no  mind  to 
pay  one  stiver  more  than  they  were  forced.  All 
the  isles  of  Zeeland,  and  the  counties  of  Eonham 
and  Alost,  were  doing  that  which  was  right  in  the 
sight  of  their  own  eyes,  and  finding  themselves 
none  the  worse  therefor;  though  the  Countess 
Gertrude,  doubtless,  could  buy  fewer  silks  of  Greece 
or  gems  of  Italy.  But  to  such  a  distressed  lady 
a  champion  could  not  long  be  wanting.  Robert 


How  Hereward  Went  to  the  War      179 

had  been  driven  out  of  Spain  by  the  Moors  with 
fearful  loss,  and,  in  a  second  attempt,  wrecked  with 
all  his  fleet  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  port.  He  then, 
it  would  seem,  started  in  palmer's  guise,  nomi- 
nally for  Jerusalem,  but  really  for  Byzant.  For, 
according  to  Lambert  of  Aschaffenbourg,  certain 
Norman  Vikings  had  offered  to  make  him  Kaiser  of 
Greece,  and  more  than  rival  of  Robert  Guiscard  in 
his  new  Italian  kingdom.  But  the  existing  Greek 
Kaiser,  hearing  of  the  plot,  commanded  him  to  be 
slain  as  soon  as  he  set  foot  on  shore.  To  avoid 
which  end  the  disappointed  palmer  wended  home- 
ward once  more,  and  resolved  to  change  thence- 
forth the  salt  water  for  the  fresh,  and  leave  the 
swan's-path  for  that  of  the  humble  ducks  and 
geese  of  Holland. 

So  he  rushed  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the 
Countess  Gertrude;  and  his  father,  whose  good 
sense  foresaw  that  the  fiery  Robert  would  raise 
storms  upon  his  path  —  happily  for  his  old  age  he 
did  not  foresee  the  worst  —  let  him  go,  with  his 
blessing. 

Then  Robert  gathered  to  him  valiant  ruffians, 
as  many  as  he  could  find ;  and  when  he  heard  of 
the  Viking  who  had  brought  Eustace  of  Guisnes 
to  reason,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  a  man 
who  would  do  his  work.  And  when  the  great 
marquis  came  down  to  St.  Omer  to  receive  the 
homage  of  Count  Eustace  of  Guisnes,  Robert 
came  thither  too,  and  saw  Hereward. 

"  You  have  done  us  good  service,  Harold  Nae- 
mansson,  as  it  pleases  you  to  be  called,"  said  Bald- 
win, smiling.  "  But  some  man's  son  you  are,  if 
ever  I  saw  a  gallant  knight,  earl-born  by  his  looks 
as  well  as  his  deeds." 


180  Hereward  the  Wake 

Hereward  bowed. 

"  And  for  me,"  said  Robert,  "  Naemansson  or 
earl's  son,  here  is  my  Viking's  welcome  to  all 
Vikings  like  myself."  And  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Hereward  took  it. 

"  You  failed  in  Galicia,  beausire,  only  because 
your  foes  were  a  hundred  to  one.  You  will  not 
fail  where  you  are  going,  if  (as  I  hear)  they  are 
but  ten  to  one." 

Robert  laughed,  vain  and  gratified. 

"  Then  you  know  where  I  have  been,  and  where 
I  am  going?" 

"  Why  not?  As  you  know  well,  we  Vikings  are 
all  brothers;  and  all  know  each  other's  counsel, 
from  ship  to  ship,  and  port  to  port." 

Then  the  two  young  men  looked  each  other  in 
the  face,  and  each  saw  that  the  other  was  a  man 
who  would  suit  him. 

"  Skall  to  the  Viking !  "  cried  Robert,  aping,  as 
was  his  fancy,  the  Norse  rovers'  slang.  "  Will 
you  come  with  me  to  Holland  ?  " 

"  You  must  ask  my  young  lord  there ;  "  and  he 
pointed  to  Arnoul.  "I  am  his  man  now,  by  all 
laws  of  honor." 

A  flush  of  jealousy  passed  over  Robert's  face. 
He,  haplessly  for  himself,  thought  that  he  had  a 
grievance. 

The  rights  of  primogeniture  —  "  droits  d'ainesse" 
—  were  not  respected  in  the  family  of  the  Baldwins 
as  they  should  have  been,  had  prudence  and  com- 
mon sense  had  their  way. 

No  sacred  or  divine  right  was  held  to  be  con- 
ferred by  the  fact  of  a  man's  being  the  first-born 
son.  As  among  the  Jews  of  old,  the  "  Lord's 
anointed "  was  usually  rather  a  younger  son  of 


How  Hereward  Went  to  the  War      181 

talent  and  virtue ;  one  born,  not  according  to  the 
flesh,  but  according  to  the  spirit,  like  David  and 
Solomon.  And  so  it  was  in  other  realms  besides 
Flanders  during  the  middle  age.  The  father 
handed  on  the  work — for  ruling  was  hard  work 
in  those  days  —  to  the  son  most  able  to  do  it. 
Therefore  we  can  believe  Lambert  of  Aschaffen- 
bourg  when  he  says,  that  in  Count  Baldwin's  fam- 
ily for  many  ages  the  son  who  pleased  his  father 
most  took  his  father's  name,  and  was  hereditary 
prince  of  all  Flanders;  while  the  other  brothers 
led  an  inglorious  life  of  vassalage  to  him. 

But  we  can  conceive,  likewise,  that  such  a  method 
would  give  rise  to  intrigues,  envyings,  calumnies, 
murders,  fratricidal  civil  wars,  and  all  the  train  of 
miseries  which  for  some  years  after  this  history 
made  infamous  the  house  of  Baldwin ;  as  they  did 
many  another  royal  house,  till  they  were  stopped 
by  the  gradual  adoption  of  the  rational  rule  of 
primogeniture. 

So  Robert,  who  might  have  been  a  daring  and 
useful  friend  to  his  brother,  had  he  been  forced  to 
take  for  granted  from  birth  that  he  was  nothing, 
and  his  brother  all  in  all  —  as  do  all  younger  sons 
of  English  noblemen,  to  their  infinite  benefit  — 
held  himself  to  be  an  injured  man  for  life,  because 
his  father  called  his  first-born  Baldwin,  and  prom- 
ised him  the  succession,  —  which  indeed  he  had 
worthily  deserved,  according  to  the  laws  of  Mam- 
mon and  this  world,  by  bringing  into  the  family  such 
an  heiress  as  Richilda,  and  such  a  dowry  as  Mons. 

But  Robert,  who  thought  himself  as  good  as  his 
brother  (though  he  was  not  such  save  in  valor), 
nursed  black  envy  in  his  heart.  Hard  it  was  to 
him  to  hear  his  elder  brother  called  Baldwin  of 


i8a  Hereward  the  Wake 

Mons,  when  he  himself  had  not  a  foot  of  land  of 
his  own.  Harder  still  to  hear  him  called  Baldwin 
the  Good,  when  he  felt  in  himself  no  title  whatsoever 
to  that  epithet.  Hardest  of  all  to  see  a  beautiful  boy 
grow  up,  as  heir  both  of  Flanders  and  of  Hainault. 

Had  he  foreseen  whither  that  envy  would  have 
led  him ;  had  he  foreseen  the  hideous  and  fratrici- 
dal day  of  February  22,  1071,  and  that  fair  boy's 
golden  locks  rolling  in  dust  and  blood  —  the  wild 
Viking  would  have  crushed  the  growing  snake 
within  his  bosom;  for  he  was  a  knight  and  a 
gentleman.  But  it  was  hidden  from  his  eyes.  He 
had  to  "  dree  his  weird  "  ;  to  commit  great  sins,  do 
great  deeds,  and  die  in  his  bed,  mighty  and  hon- 
ored, having  children  to  his  heart's  desire,  and 
leaving  the  rest  of  his  substance  to  his  babes. 
Heaven  help  him,  and  the  like  of  him ! 

He  turned  to  young  Arnoul  — 

"  Give  me  your  man,  boy !  " 

Arnoul  pouted.  He  wanted  to  keep  his  Viking 
for  himself,  and  said  so. 

"  He  is  to  teach  me  to  go  leding,  as  the  Norse- 
men call  it,  like  you." 

Robert  laughed.  A  hint  at  his  piratical  attempts 
pleased  his  vanity,  all  the  more  because  they  had 
been  signal  failures. 

"  Lend  him  me,  then,  my  pretty  nephew,  for  a 
month  or  two,  till  he  has  conquered  these  Zeeland 
frogs  for  me ;  and  then,  if  you  will  go  leding  with 
him " 

"  I  hope  you  may  never  come  back,"  thought 
Robert  to  himself;  but  he  did  not  say  it. 

"  Let  the  knight  go,"  quoth  Baldwin. 

"  Let  me  go  with  him,  then." 

"No,  by  all  saints!"    quoth   the   marquis,   "I 


How  Hereward  Went  to  the  War     183 

cannot  have  you  poked  through  with  a  Zeeland 
pike,  or  rotted  with  a  Zeeland  ague." 

Arnoul  pouted  still. 

"Abbot,  what  hast  thou  been  at  with  the  boy? 
He  thinks  of  naught  but  blood  and  wounds,  in- 
stead of  books  and  prayers.  He  is  gone  mad  after 
this  —  this  knight." 

"  The  abbot,"  said  Hereward,  "  knows  by  hear- 
ing of  his  ears,  that  I  bid  him  bide  at  home,  and  try 
to  govern  lands  in  peace,  like  his  father  and  you, 
lord  marquis." 

"Eh?" 

The  abbot  told  honestly  what  had  passed  be- 
tween Hereward  and  the  lad,  as  they  rode  to  St. 
Bertin. 

Baldwin  was  silent,  thinking,  and  smiling  jollily, 
as  was  the  wont  of  the  Debonair. 

"  You  are  a  man  of  sense,  beausire.  Come  with 
me,"  said  he  at  last. 

And  Baldwin,  Hereward,  and  Robert  went  into 
an  inner  room. 

"  Sit  down  on  the  settle  by  me." 

"  It  is  too  great  an  honor." 

"  Nonsense,  man !  If  I  be  who  I  am,  I  know 
enough  of  men  to  know  that  I  need  not  be  ashamed 
of  having  you  as  bench-fellow.  Sit  down." 

Hereward  obeyed,  of  course. 

"  Tell  me  who  you  are." 

Hereward  looked  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes, 
smiling  and  perplexed. 

"Tell  me  and  Robert  who  you  are,  man;  and 
be  done  with  it.  I  believe  I  know  already.  I 
have  asked  far  and  wide  of  chapmen,  and  mer- 
chants, and  wandering  knights,  and  pirate  rascals 
—  like  yourself." 


I  84  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  And  you  found  that  I  was  a  pirate  rascal  ?  *' 

"  I  found  a  pirate  rascal  who  met  you  in  Ireland, 
three  years  since,  and  will  swear  that  if  you  have 
one  gray  eye  and  one  blue " 

"  As  he  has,"  quoth  Robert. 

"  That  I  am  a  wolf's  head,  and  a  robber  of 
priests,  and  an  Esau  on  the  face  of  the  earth ; 
every  man's  hand  against  me,  and  mine  —  for  I 
never  take  but  what  I  give  —  against  every  man." 

"  That  you  are  the  son  of  my  old  friend  Leofric 
of  Chester;  and  the  hottest-hearted,  shrewdest- 
headed,  hardest-handed  Berserker  in  the  North 
Seas.  You  killed  Gilbert  of  Ghent's  bear,  Siward 
Digre's  cousin.  Don't  deny  it." 

"  Don't  hang  me,  or  send  me  to  the  Westminster 
miracle-worker  to  be  hanged,  and  I  will  confess." 

"  I  ?  Every  man  is  welcome  who  comes  hither 
with  a  bold  hand  and  a  strong  heart.  '  The  Refuge 
of  Outlaws '  they  call  Flanders ;  I  suppose  because 
I  am  too  good-natured  to  turn  rogues  out.  So  do 
no  harm  to  mine,  and  mine  shall  do  no  harm  to 
you." 

Baldwin's  words  were  true.1  He  found  house- 
room  for  everybody,  helped  everybody  against 
everybody  else  (as  will  be  seen),  and  yet  quarrelled 
with  nobody  —  at  least  in  his  old  age  —  by  the 
mere  virtue  of  good-nature. 

So  Hereward  went  off  to  exterminate  the  wicked 
Hollanders,  and  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  Countess 
Gertrude. 

1  Eltgiva  Emma,  between  Ethelred's  ruin  and  her  marriage 
with  Canute ;  Sweyn  Godwinsson  when  outlawed  by  Edward  the 
Confessor,  and  after  them,  as  will  be  seen,  every  one  who,  how- 
ever fallen,  seemed  strong  enough  to  rise  again  some  day,  took 
refuge  one  after  another  with  Baldwin.  See,  for  the  history  of 
him  and  his  times,  M.  Kervyn  de  Lettenhoven. 


CHAPTER   X 

HOW   HEREWARD  WON  THE  MAGIC  ARMOR 

TORFRIDA  had  special  opportunities  of  hear- 
ing about  Hereward ;  for  young  Arnoul  was 
to  her  a  pet  and  almost  a  foster-brother,  and  gladly 
escaped  from  the  convent  to  tell  her  the  news. 

He  had  now  had  his  first  taste  of  the  royal  game 
of  war.  He  had  seen  Hereward  fight  by  day,  and 
heard  him  tell  stories  over  the  camp  fire  by  night. 
Hereward's  beauty,  Hereward's  prowess,  Here- 
ward's  songs,  Hereward's  strange  adventures  and 
wanderings,  were  forever  in  the  young  boy's 
mouth ;  and  he  spent  hours  in  helping  Torfrida  to 
guess  who  the  great  unknown  might  be ;  and  then 
went  back  to  Hereward,  and  artlessly  told  him  of 
his  beautiful  friend,  and  how  they  had  talked  of 
him,  and  of  nothing  else ;  and  in  a  week  or  two 
Hereward  knew  all  about  Torfrida ;  and  Torfrida 
knew  —  what  filled  her  heart  with  joy  —  that  Here- 
ward was  bound  to  no  lady-love,  and  owned  (so 
he  had  told  Arnoul)  no  mistress  save  the  sword  on 
his  thigh. 

Whereby  there  had  grown  up  in  the  hearts  of 
both  of  them  a  mutual  interest,  which  easily 
became  the  parent  of  love. 

When  Baldwin  the  great  marquis  came  to  St. 
Omer,  to  receive  the  homage  of  Eustace  of  Guisnes, 
young  Arnoul  ran  into  Torfrida's  chamber  in  great 

Vol. 


1 86  Hereward  the  Wake 

anxiety.  Would  his  grandfather  approve  of  what 
he  had  done?  Would  he  allow  his  new  friendship 
with  the  unknown? 

"What  care  I?"  said  Torfrida.  "But  if  your 
friend  wishes  to  have  the  marquis's  favor,  he  would 
be  wise  to  trust  him,  at  least  so  far  as  to  tell  his 
name." 

"  I  have  told  him  so.  I  have  told  him  that  you 
would  tell  him  so." 

"  I  ?     Have  you  been  talking  to  him  about  me  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  That  is  not  well  done,  Arnoul,  to  talk  of  ladies 
to  men  whom  they  do  not  know." 

Arnoul  looked  up,  puzzled  and  pained ;  for  she 
spoke  haughtily. 

"  I  know  naught  of  your  new  friend.  He  may 
be  a  low-born  man,  for  anything  that  I  can  tell." 

"  He  is  not !  He  is  as  noble  as  I  am.  Every- 
thing he  says  and  does  —  every  look  —  shows  his 
birth." 

"  You  are  young  —  as  you  have  shown  by  talk- 
ing of  me  to  him.  But  I  have  given  you  my 
advice;"  and  she  moved  listlessly  away.  "Let 
him  tell  your  grandfather  who  he  is,  or  remain 
suspected." 

The  boy  went  away  sadly. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  burst  into  Torfrida's 
room  as  she  was  dressing  her  hair. 

"  How  now !  Are  these  manners  for  the  heir  of 
Flanders?" 

"  He  has  told  all !  " 

"  He  has  !  "  And  she  started  and  dropped  her 
comb. 

"  Pick  up  that  comb,  girl.  You  need  not  go 
away.  I  have  no  secrets  with  young  gentlemen." 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor     1 87 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  hear,"  said 
Arnoul. 

"  I  ?  What  can  I  want  in  the  matter,  save  that 
your  grandfather  should  be  satisfied  that  you  are 
entertaining  a  man  worthy  to  be  your  guest?" 

"  And  he  is  worthy :  he  has  told  my  grandfather 
who  he  is." 

"But  not  you?" 

"  No.  They  say  I  must  not  know  yet  But  this 
I  know,  that  they  welcomed  him,  when  he  told 
them,  as  if  he  had  been  an  earl's  son ;  and  that 
he  is  going  with  my  uncle  Robert  against  the 
Zeelanders." 

"  And  if  he  be  an  earl's  son,  how  comes  he 
here,  wandering  with  rough  seamen,  and  hiding 
his  honest  name  ?  He  must  have  done  something 
of  which  he  is  ashamed." 

"  I  shall  tell  you  nothing  more." 

"  What  care  I  ?  I  can  find  out  by  art  magic  if  I 
like." 

"  I  don't  believe  all  that.  Can  you  find  out,  for 
instance,  what  he  has  on  his  throat?  " 

"  A  beard." 

"  But  what  is  under  that  beard?  " 

"  A  goitre." 

"You  are  laughing  at  me." 

"I  shall  laugh  at  any  one  who  challenges  me 
to  find  out  anything  so  silly  and  so  unfit." 

"  I  shall  go." 

"  Go  then."  For  she  knew  very  well  that  he 
would  come  back  again. 

"  Nurse,"  said  Torfrida  to  the  old  Lapp  woman, 
when  they  were  alone,  "  find  out  for  me  what  is 
the  name  of  this  strange  champion,  and  what  he 
has  beneath  his  beard." 


1 88  Hereward  the  Wake 

"Beneath  his  beard?" 

"  Some  scar,  I  suppose,  or  secret  mark.  I  must 
know.  You  will  find  out  for  your  Torfrida,  will 
you  not,  nurse?  " 

"  I  will  make  a  charm  that  will  bring  him  to 
you,  were  all  the  icebergs  of  Quenland  between 
you  and  him ;  and  then  you  can  see  for  yourself." 

"No,  no,  no!  not  yet,  nurse!"  and  Torfrida 
smiled.  "  Only  find  me  out  that  one  thing:  that 
I  must  know." 

And  yet  why  she  wanted  to  know,  she  could  not 
tell  herself. 

The  old  woman  came  back  to  her  ere  she  went 
to  bed. 

"  I  have  found  it  out,  all  and  more.  I  know 
where  to  get  scarlet  toadstools;  and  I  put  the 
juice  in  his  men's  ale :  they  are  laughing  and  roar- 
ing now,  merry-mad  every  one  of  them." 

"But  not  he?" 

"  No,  no.  He  is  with  the  marquis.  But  in 
madness  comes  out  truth ;  and  that  long  hook- 
nosed body-varlet  of  his  has  told  us  all." 

And  she  told  Torfrida  who  Hereward  was,  and 
the  secret  mark. 

"  There  is  a  cross  upon  his  throat,  beneath  his 
chin ;  pricked  in  after  their  English  fashion." 

Torfrida  started. 

"  Then  —  then  the  spell  will  not  work  upon 
him;  the  Holy  Cross  will  turn  it  off." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  cross  and  a  holy  one  that 
will  turn  off  my  charms,"  said  the  old  hag,  with  a 
sneer,  "whatever  it  may  do  against  yours.  But 
on  the  back  of  his  hand  —  that  will  be  a  mark  to 
know  him  by  —  there  is  pricked  a  bear  —  a  white 
bear  that  he  slew."  And  she  told  the  story  of  the 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor     189 

fairy  beast;  which  Torfrida  duly  stored  up  in  her 
heart. 

"  So  he  has  the  cross  on  his  throat,"  thought 
Torfrida  to  herself.  "Well,  if  it  keep  off  my 
charm,  it  will  keep  off  others  —  that  is  one  com- 
fort :  and  one  knows  not  what  fairies,  or  witches, 
or  evil  creatures,  he  may  meet  with  in  the  forests 
and  the  fens." 

The  discovery  of  Hereward's  rank  did  not, 
doubtless,  lessen  Torfrida's  fancy  for  him.  She 
was  ambitious  enough,  and  proud  enough  of  her 
own  lineage,  to  be  full  glad  that  her  heart  had 
strayed  away  —  as  it  must  needs  stray  somewhere 
—  to  the  son  of  the  third  greatest  man  in  England. 
As  for  his  being  an  outlaw,  that  mattered  little. 
He  might  be  inlawed,  and  rich  and  powerful,  any 
day  in  those  uncertain  topsy-turvy  times :  and  for 
the  present,  his  being  a  wolf's  head  only  made 
him  the  more  interesting  to  her.  Women  like  to 
pity  their  lovers.  Sometimes  —  may  all  good 
beings  reward  them  for  it  —  they  love  merely  be- 
cause they  pity.  And  Torfrida  found  it  pleasant 
to  pity  the  insolent  young  coxcomb,  who  certainly 
never  dreamed  of  pitying  himself. 

When  Hereward  went  home  that  night  he  found 
the  abbey  of  St.  Bertin  in  horrible  confusion.  His 
men  were  grouped  outside  the  gate,  chattering 
like  monkeys;  the  porter  and  the  monks,  from 
inside,  entreating  them  vainly  to  come  in  and  go 
to  bed  quietly. 

But  they  would  not.  They  vowed  and  swore 
that  a  great  gulf  had  opened  all  down  the  road, 
and  that  one  step  more  would  tumble  them  in 
headlong.  They  manifested  the  most  affectionate 
solicitude  for  the  monks,  warning  them,  on  their 


190  Hereward  the  Wake 

lives,  not  to  step  across  the  threshold,  or  they 
would  be  swallowed  (as  Martin,  who  was  the  mad- 
dest of  the  lot,  phrased  it)  with  Korah,  Dathan, 
and  Abiram.  In  vain  Hereward  stormed ;  assured 
them  that  the  supposed  abyss  was  nothing  but  the 
gutter ;  proved  .the  fact  by  kicking  Martin  over 
it :  the  men  determined  to  believe  their  own  eyes, 
and  after  a  while  fell  asleep  in  heaps  in  the  road- 
side, and  lay  there  till  morning,  when  they  woke, 
declaring,  as  did  the  monks,  that  they  had  been 
all  bewitched.  They  knew  not  —  and  happily  the 
lower  orders  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent 
do  not  yet  know  —  the  potent  virtues  of  that 
strange  fungus,  with  which  Lapps  and  Samoiedes 
have,  it  is  said,  practised  wonders  for  centuries 
past. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  was,  that  Martin  Light- 
foot,  who  had  drunk  most  of  the  poison,  and  had 
always  been  dreamy  and  uncanny,  in  spite  of  his 
shrewdness  and  humor,  had,  from  that  day  for- 
ward, something  very  like  a  bee  in  his  bonnet. 

But  before  Count  Robert  and  Hereward  could 
collect  sufficient  troops  for  the  invasion  of  Holland, 
another  chance  of  being  slain  in  fight  arose,  too 
tempting  to  be  overlooked ;  namely,  the  annual 
tournaments  at  Pons  and  Poitiers,1  where  all  the 
noblest  knights  of  France  would  assemble,  to  win 
their  honor  and  ladies'  love  by  hewing  at  each 
other's  sinful  bodies.  Thither,  too,  over  three 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  bad  road,  the  best 
knights  of  Flanders  must  needs  go,  and  with  them 
Hereward.  Though  no  knight,  he  was  allowed 
in  Flanders,  as  he  had  been  in  Scotland,  to  take 
bis  place  among  that  honorable  company.  For 
1  "  Apud  Pontes  et  Pictaviam  "  —  Pons  in  Xaintonge. 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor    191 

though  he  still  refused  the  honor  of  knighthood, 
on  the  ground  that  he  had  as  yet  done  no  deed 
deserving  thereof,  he  was  held  to  have  deserved  it 
again  and  again,  and  all  the  more  from  his  modesty 
in  declining  it. 

So  away  they  all  went  to  Poitiers,  a  right  gallant 
meinie :  while  Torfrida  watched  them  go  from  the 
lattice  window. 

And  when  they  had  passed  down  the  street, 
tramping  and  jingling  and  caracoling,  young 
Arnoul  ran  into  the  house  with  eyes  full  of  tears, 
because  he  was  not  allowed  to  go  likewise ;  and 
with  a  message  for  Torfrida  from  no  other  than 
Hereward. 

"  I  was  to  tell  you  this  and  no  more :  that  if  he 
meets  your  favor  in  the  field,  he  that  wears  it  will 
have  hard  work  to  keep  it." 

Torfrida  turned  pale  as  ashes;  first  with  wild 
delight,  and  then  with  wild  fear. 

"  Ha !  —  does  he  know  who  —  Sir  Ascelin  ?  " 

"He  knows  well  enough.  Why  not?  Every 
one  knows.  Are  you  afraid  that  he  is  not  a  match 
for  that  great  ox  ?  " 

"  Afraid  ?  Who  said  I  was  afraid  ?  Sir  Ascelin 
is  no  ox,  either,  but  a  courteous  and  gallant 
knight." 

"  You  are  as  pale  as  death ;  and  Sir " 

"  Never  mind  what  I  am,"  said  she,  putting  her 
hands  over  the  boy's  eyes,  and  kissing  him  again 
and  again,  as  a  vent  for  her  joy. 

The  next  few  days  seemed  years  for  length :  but 
she  could  wait.  She  was  sure  of  him  now.  She 
needed  no  charms.  "  Perhaps,"  thought  she,  as 
she  looked  in  the  glass,  "  I  was  my  own  charm." 
And  indeed  she  had  a  fair  right  to  say  so. 


192  Hereward  the  Wake 

At  last  news  came. 

Torfrida  was  sitting  over  her  books ;  her  mother, 
as  usual,  was  praying  in  the  churches ;  when  the 
old  Lapp  nurse  came  in.  A  knight  was  at  the 
door.  He  said  his  name  was  Siward  the  White, 
and  he  came  from  Hereward. 

From  Hereward !  He  was  at  least  alive :  he 
might  be  wounded,  though;  and  she  rushed  out 
of  the  chamber  into  the  hall,  looking  more  beauti- 
ful than  ever ;  her  color  heightened  by  the  quick 
beating  of  her  heart;  her  dark  hair,  worn  loose 
and  long,  after  the  fashion  of  those  days,  stream- 
ing around  her  and  behind  her. 

A  handsome  young  man  stood  in  the  doorway, 
armed  from  head  to  foot. 

"You  are  Siward,  Hereward's  nephew?" 

He  bowed  assent.  She  took  him  by  the  hands, 
and,  after  the  fashion  of  those  days,  kissed  him  on 
the  small  space  on  either  cheek,  which  was  left 
bare  between  the  nose-piece  and  the  chain-mail. 

"You  are  welcome.     Hereward  is  —  alive?  " 

"  Alive  and  gay,  and  all  the  more  gay  at  being 
able  to  send  to  the  Lady  Torfrida  by  me  some- 
thing which  was  once  hers,  and  now  is  hers  once 
more." 

And  he  drew  from  his  bosom  the  ribbon  of  the 
knight  of  St.  Valeri. 

She  almost  snatched  it  from  his  hand,  in  her 
delight  at  recovering  her  favor. 

"  How  —  where  —  did  he  get  this  ?  " 

"  He  saw  it,  in  the  thick  of  the  tournament,  on 
the  helm  of  a  knight  who,  he  knew,  had  vowed  to 
maim  him  or  take  his  life;  and,  wishing  to  give 
him  a  chance  of  fulfilling  his  vow,  rode  him  down, 
horse  and  man.  The  knight's  French  friends 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor     193 

attacked  us  in  force ;  and  we  Flemings,  with  Here- 
ward  at  our  head,  beat  them  off;  and  overthrew 
so  many,  that  we  are  almost  all  horsed  at  the 
Frenchmen's  expense.  Three  more  knights,  with 
their  horses,  fell  before  Hereward's  lance." 

"And  what  of  this  favor?" 

"  He  sends  it  to  its  owner.  Let  her  say  what 
shall  be  done  with  it." 

Torfrida  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "  He  has 
won  it,  let  him  wear  it  for  my  sake."  But  she 
paused.  She  longed  to  see  Hereward  face  to 
face;  to  speak  to  him,  if  but  one  word.  If  she 
allowed  him  to  wear  the  favor,  she  must  at  least 
have  the  pleasure  of  giving  it  with  her  own  hands. 
And  she  paused. 

"And  he  is  killed?" 

"Who?     Hereward?" 

"  Sir  Ascelin." 

"  Only  bruised :  but  he  shall  be  killed,  if  you 
will." 

"  God  forbid  !  " 

"  Then,"  said  the  knight,  mistaking  her  meaning, 
"  all  I  have  to  tell  Hereward  is,  it  seems,  that  he 
has  wasted  his  blow.  He  will  return,  therefore,  to 
the  knight  of  St.  Valeri  his  horse,  and,  if  the  Lady 
Torfrida  chooses,  the  favor  which  he  has  taken  by 
mistake  from  its  rightful  owner."  And  he  set  his 
teeth,  and  could  not  prevent  stamping  on  the 
ground,  in  evident  passion.  There  was  a  tone, 
too,  of  deep  disappointment  in  his  voice,  which 
made  Torfrida  look  keenly  at  him.  Why  should 
Hereward's  nephew  feel  so  deeply  about  that 
favor?  And  as  she  looked  —  could  that  man  be 
the  youth  Siward?  Young  he  was,  but  surely 
thirty  years  old  at  least.  His  face  could  hardly  be 


1 94  Hereward  the  Wake 

seen,  hidden  by  helmet  and  nose-piece  above,  and 
mailed  up  to  the  mouth  below.  But  his  long 
mustache  was  that  of  a  grown  man;  his  vast 
breadth  of  shoulder,  his  hard  hand,  his  sturdy 
limbs,  —  these  surely  belonged  not  to  the  slim 
youth  whom  she  had  seen  from  her  lattice  riding 
at  Hereward's  side.  And,  as  she  looked,  she  saw 
upon  his  hand  the  bear  of  which  her  nurse  had 
told  her. 

"  You  are  deceiving  me !  "  and  she  turned  first 
deadly  pale,  and  then  crimson.  "  You  —  you  are 
Hereward  himself!  " 

"  I  ?  Pardon  me,  my  lady.  Ten  minutes  ago  I 
should  have  been  glad  enough  to  have  been  Here- 
ward. Now  I  am  thankful  enough  that  I  am  only 
Siward ;  and  not  Hereward,  who  wins  for  himself 
contempt  by  overthrowing  a  knight  more  fortu- 
nate than  he."  And  he  bowed,  and  turned  away 
to  go. 

"  Hereward !  Hereward  !  "  and,  in  her  passion, 
she  seized  him  by  both  his  hands.  "  I  know  you  ! 
I  know  that  device  upon  your  hand.  At  last !  at 
last !  My  hero,  my  Paladin  !  How  I  have  longed 
for  this  moment !  How  I  have  toiled  for  it,  and 
not  in  vain!  Alas,  alas! — what  am  I  saying?" 
And  she  tried,  in  her  turn,  to  escape  from  Here- 
ward's  mailed  arms. 

"Then  you  do  not  care  for  that  man?" 

"  For  him?  Here,  take  my  favor,  wear  it  before 
all  the  world,  and  guard  it  as  you  only  can ;  and 
let  all  know  that  Torfrida  is  your  love." 

And  with  hands  trembling  with  passion  she 
bound  the  ribbon  round  his  helm. 

"  Yes !  I  am  Hereward,"  he  almost  shouted ; 
"the  Berserker,  the  brain-hewer,  the  land-thief, 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor     195 

the  sea-thief,  the  feeder  of  wolf  and  raven  —  Aoi ! 
Ere  my  beard  was  grown,  I  was  a  match  for  giants. 
How  much  more  now  that  I  am  a  man  whom 
ladies  love  ?  Many  a  champion  has  quailed  before 
my  very  glance.  How  much  more  now  that  I  wear 
Torfrida's  gift?  Aoi!" 

Torfrida  had  often  heard  that  wild  battle-cry  of 
Aoi !  of  which  the  early  minstrels  were  so  fond  — 
with  which  the  great  poet  who  wrote  the  Song  of 
Roland  ends  every  paragraph;  which  has  now 
fallen  (displaced  by  our  modern  Hurrah)  to  be 
merely  a  sailor's  call  or  hunter's  cry.  But  she 
shuddered  as  she  heard  it  close  to  her  ears ;  and 
saw,  from  the  flashing  eye  and  dilated  nostril,  the 
temper  of  the  man  on  whom  she  had  thrown  her- 
self so  utterly.  She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  lips. 

"  Silence !  silence,  for  pity's  sake.  Remember 
that  you  are  in  a  maiden's  house ;  and  think  of  her 
good  fame." 

Hereward  collected  himself  instantly,  and  then, 
holding  her  at  arm's  length,  gazed  upon  her.  "  I 
was  mad  a  moment.  But  is  it  not  enough  to  make 
me  mad  to  look  at  you  ?  " 

"  Do  not  look  at  me  so,  I  cannot  bear  it,"  said 
she,  hanging  down  her  head.  "  You  forget  that  I 
am  a  poor  weak  girl." 

"Ah!  we  are  rough  wooers, we  sea-rovers.  We 
cannot  pay  glozing  French  compliments  like  your 
knights  here,  who  fawn  on  a  damsel  with  soft 
words  in  the  hall,  and  will  kiss  the  dust  off  their 
queen's  feet,  and  die  for  a  hair  of  their  goddess's 
eyebrow;  and  then  if  they  find  her  alone  in  the 
forest,  show  themselves  as  very  ruffians  as  if  they 
were  Paynim  Moors.  We  are  rough,  lady,  we  Eng' 
lish ;  but  those  who  trust  us  find  us  true." 


196  Hereward  the  Wake 

"And  I  can  trust  you?"  she  asked,  still 
trembling. 

"  On  God's  cross  there  round  your  neck,"  and 
he  took  her  crucifix  and  kissed  it.  "  You  only  I 
love,  you  only  I  will  love,  and  you  will  I  love  in 
all  honesty,  before  the  angels  of  heaven,  till  we  be 
wedded  man  and  wife.  Who  but  a  fool  would  soil 
the  flower  which  he  means  to  wear  before  all  the 
world?" 

"  I  knew  Hereward  was  noble !  I  knew  I  had 
not  trusted  him  in  vain  !  " 

"  I  kept  faith  and  honor  with  the  Princess  of 
Cornwall,  when  I  had  her  at  my  will,  and  shall  I 
not  keep  faith  and  honor  with  you  ?  " 

"  The  Princess  of  Cornwall?  "  asked  Torfrida. 

"  Do  not  be  jealous,  fair  queen.  I  brought  her 
safe  to  her  betrothed ;  and  wedded  she  is,  long  ago. 
I  will  tell  you  that  story  some  day.  And  now  —  I 
must  go." 

"  Not  yet !  not  yet !  I  have  something  to  —  to 
show  you." 

She  motioned  him  to  go  up  the  narrow  stairs,  or 
rather  ladder,  which  led  to  the  upper  floor,  and  then 
led  him  into  her  chamber. 

A  lady's  chamber  was  then,  in  days  when  privacy 
was  little  cared  for,  her  usual  reception-room ;  and 
the  bed,  which  stood  in  an  alcove,  served  as  a  com- 
mon seat  for  her  and  her  guests.  But  Torfrida  did 
not  ask  him  to  sit  down.  She  led  the  way  onward 
towards  a  door  beyond. 

Hereward  followed,  glancing  with  awe  at  the 
books,  parchments,  and  strange  instruments  which 
lay  on  the  table  and  the  floor. 

The  old  Lapp  nurse  sat  in  the  window,  sewing 
busily.  She  looked  up,  and  smiled  meaningly. 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor     197 

But  as  she  saw  Torfrida  unlock  the  further  door 
with  one  of  the  keys  which  hung  at  her  girdle,  she 
croaked  out  — 

"  Too  fast !  Too  fast !  Trust  lightly,  and  repent 
heavily." 

"  Trust  at  once,  or  trust  never,"  said  Torfrida,  as 
she  opened  the  door. 

Hereward  saw  within  rich  dresses  hung  on 
perches  round  the  wall,  and  chests  barred  and 
padlocked. 

"  These  are  treasures,"  said  she,  "  which  many 
a  knight  and  nobleman  has  coveted.  By  cunning, 
by  flattery,  by  threats  of  force  even,  have  they  tried 
to  win  what  lies  here  —  and  Torfrida  herself,  too, 
for  the  sake  of  her  wealth.  But  thanks  to  the 
abbot  my  uncle,  Torfrida  is  still  her  own  mis- 
tress, and  mistress  of  the  wealth  which  her  fore- 
fathers won  by  sea  and  land  far  away  in  the  East. 
All  here  is  mine  —  and  if  you  be  but  true  to  me, 
all  mine  is  yours.  Lift  the  lid  for  me,  it  is  too 
heavy  for  my  arms." 

Hereward  did  so ;  and  saw  within  golden  cups 
and  bracelets,  horns  of  ivory  and  silver,  bags  of 
coin,  and  among  them  a  mail  shirt  and  helmet,  on 
which  he  fixed  at  once  silent  and  greedy  eyes. 

She  looked  at  his  face  askance,  and  smiled. 
"  Yes,  these  are  more  to  Hereward's  taste  than 
gold  and  jewels.  And  he  shall  have  them.  He 
shall  have  them  as  a  proof  that  if  Torfrida  has  set 
her  love  upon  a  worthy  knight,  she  is  at  least 
worthy  of  him;  and  does  not  demand  without 
being  able  to  give  in  return." 

And  she  took  out  the  armor  and  held  it  up  to 
him. 

"  This    is   the  work  of  dwarfs   or   enchanters ! 


198  Hereward  the  Wake 

This  was  not  forged  by  mortal  man  !  It  must  have 
come  out  of  some  old  cavern,  or  dragon's  hoard  !  " 
said  Hereward,  in  astonishment  at  the  extreme  deli- 
cacy and  slightness  of  the  mail-rings,  and  the  rich- 
ness of  the  gold  and  silver  with  which  both  hauberk 
and  helm  were  inlaid. 

"  Enchanted  it  is,  they  say ;  but  its  maker,  who 
can  tell?  My  ancestor  won  it,  and  by  the  side  of 
Charles  Martel.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  how. 

"  You  have  heard  of  fair  Provence,  where  I  spent 
my  youth ;  the  land  of  the  sunny  south ;  the  land 
of  the  fig  and  the  olive,  the  mulberry  and  the  rose, 
the  tulip  and  the  anemone,  and  all  rich  fruits  and 
fair  flowers,  —  the  land  where  every  city  is  piled 
with  temples,  and  theatres,  and  towers  as  high  as 
heaven,  which  the  old  Romans  built  with  their 
enchantments,  and  tormented  the  blessed  martyrs 
therein." 

"  Sun  in  heaven !  How  beautiful  you  are ! " 
cried  Hereward,  as  her  voice  shaped  itself  into  a 
song,  and  her  eyes  flashed,  at  the  remembrance  of 
her  southern  home. 

Torfrida  was  not  altogether  angry  at  finding  that 
he  was  thinking  of  her,  and  not  of  her  words. 

"  Peace,  and  listen.  You  know  how  the  Paynim 
held  that  land,  —  the  Saracens,  to  whom  Mahound 
taught  all  the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  —  as  they  teach 
us  in  turn,"  she  added  in  a  lower  voice. 

"  And  how  Charles  and  his  Paladins "  (Charles 
Martel  and  Charlemagne  were  perpetually  con- 
founded in  the  legends  of  the  time)  "  drove  them 
out,  and  conquered  the  country  again  for  God  and 
His  Mother." 

"  I  have  heard "  but  he  did  not  take  his 

eyes  off  her  face. 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor    199 

"They  were  in  the  amphitheatre  at  Aries,  the 
Saracens,  where  the  blessed  martyr  St.  Trophi- 
mus  had  died  in  torments ;  they  had  set  up  their 
idol  of  Mahound,  and  turned  the  place  into  a  for- 
tress. Charles  burned  it  over  their  heads :  you  see 
—  I  have  seen  —  the  blackened  walls,  the  blood- 
stained marbles,  to  this  day.  Then  they  fled  into 
the  plain,  and  there  they  turned  and  fought.  Under 
Montmajour,  by  the  hermit's  cell,  they  fought  a 
summer's  day,  till  they  were  all  slain.1  There  was 
an  Emir  among  them,  black  as  a  raven,  clad  in 
magic  armor.  All  lances  turned  from  it,  all  swords 
shivered  on  it.  He  rode  through  the  press  with- 
out a  wound,  while  every  stroke  of  his  scimitar 
shore  off  a  head  of  horse  or  man.  Charles  him- 
self rode  at  him,  and  smote  him  with  his  hammer. 
They  heard  the  blow  in  Avignon,  full  thirty  miles 
away.  The  flame  flashed  out  from  the  magic 
armor  a  fathom's  length,  blinding  all  around ;  and 
when  they  recovered  their  sight,  the  enchanter 
was  far  away  in  the  battle,  killing  as  he  went. 

"  Then  Charles  cried,  '  Who  will  stop  that  devil, 

1  I  have  followed  the  old  legends,  as  Torfrida  would  have 
heard  them ;  and  they  are  not  altogether  to  be  disbelieved.  The 
Church  of  the  Holy  Cross,  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  Roman- 
esque building  in  Europe,  is  said  to  date  not  from  the  year  739, 
but  from  1019,  and  from  Pons  de  Marignan,  Bishop  of  Aries. 
But  the  rock  graves  round  —  some  of  them  very  old,  though  not 
those  of  "  primitive  Christians  "  —  indicate  a  rcligio  loci,  which 
must  have  been  the  cause,  not  the  consequence,  of  the  church. 
Probably  an  older  building  had  existed  on  the  site.  And,  cer- 
tainly, if  the  monks  of  Montmajour  had  invented  both  legend 
and  place,  they  would  have  rather  chosen  for  the  latter  St. 
Trophimus'  cave  in  the  hill  above,  which  is,  surely,  deducting  the 
Romanesque  additions,  one  of  the  earliest  of  Christian  monu- 
ments. Moreover,  the  very  name  Montmajour,  the  "  Mayor's 
Mount,"  points  to  Charles  Martel  as  the  hero  of  the  isolated  hill 
forming  so  strong  a  military  position  in  the  wide  plain. 


2oo  Hereward  the  Wake 

whom  no  steel  can  wound?  Help  us,  O  blessed 
Martyr  St.  Trophimus,  and  save  the  soldiers  of  the 
cross  from  shame  ! ' 

"  Then  cried  Torfrid  my  forefather,  '  What  use 
in  crying  to  St.  Trophimus?  He  could  not  help 
himself,  when  the^  Paynim  burned  him :  and  how 
can  he  help  us  ?  A  tough  arm  is  worth  a  score 
of  martyrs  here.' 

"  And  he  rode  at  that  Emir,  and  gripped  him 
in  his  arms.  They  both  fell,  and  rolled  together 
on  the  ground :  but  Torfrid  never  loosed  his  hold 
till  he  had  crushed  out  his  unbaptized  soul,  and 
sent  it  to  join  Mahound  in  hell. 

"  Then  he  took  his  armor,  and  brought  it  home 
in  triumph.  But  after  a  while  he  fell  sick  of  a 
fever;  and  the  blessed  St.  Trophimus  appeared 
to  him,  and  told  him  that  it  was  a  punishment 
for  his  blasphemy  in  the  battle.  So  he  repented, 
and  vowed  to  serve  the  saint  all  his  life.  On  which 
he  was  healed  instantly,  and  fell  to  religion,  and 
went  back  to  Montmajour;  and  there  he  was  a 
hermit  in  the  cave  under  the  rock,  and  tended  the 
graves  hewn  in  the  living  stone,  where  his  old 
comrades,  the  Paladins  who  were  slain,  sleep  side 
by  side  round  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Cross.  But 
the  armor  he  left  here ;  and  he  laid  a  curse  upon 
it,  that  whosoever  of  his  descendants  should  lose 
that  armor  in  fight,  should  die  childless,  without 
a  son  to  wield  a  sword.  And  therefore  it  is  that 
none  of  my  ancestors,  valiant  as  they  have  been, 
have  dared  to  put  this  harness  on  their  backs." 

And  so  ended  a  story,  which  Torfrida  believed 
utterly,  and  Hereward  likewise. 

"And  now,  Hereward  mine,  dare  you  wear  that 
magic  armor,  and  face  old  Torfrid's  curse?" 


How  Hereward  Won  the  Armor    201 

"What  dare  I  not?" 

"Think.  If  you  lose  it,  in  you  your  race  must 
end." 

"  Let  it  end.     I  accept  the  curse." 

And  he  put  the  armor  on. 

But  he  trembled  as  he  did  it.  Atheism  and  su- 
perstition go  too  often  hand-in-hand ;  and  godless 
as  he  was  "sceptical  of  Providence  itself,  and  much 
more  of  the  help  of  saint  or  angel,  still  the  curse 
of  the  old  warrior,  like  the  malice  of  a  witch  or  a 
demon,  was  to  him  a  thing  possible,  probable,  and 
formidable. 

Torfrida  looked  at  him  in  pride  and  exultation. 

"  It  is  yours,  —  the  invulnerable  harness  !  Wear 
it  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle !  And  if  weapon 
wound  you  through  it,  may  I,  as  punishment  for 
my  lie,  suffer  the  same  upon  my  tender  body  —  a 
wound  for  every  wound  of  yours,  my  knight !  " l 

And  after  that  they  sat  side  by  side,  and  talked 
of  love  with  all  honor  and  honesty,  never  heeding 
the  old  hag,  who  crooned  to  herself  in  her  barbarian 
tongue,  — 

"  Quick  thaw,  long  frost, 
Quick  joy,  long  pain, 
Soon  found,  soon  lost, 
You  will  take  your  gift  again.** 

1  "  Volo  enim  in  meo  tale  quid  nunc  perpeti  corpore  semel* 
quicquid  eas  ferrei  vel  e  metallo  excederet " 


CHAPTER  XI 

HOW  THE  HOLLANDERS  TOOK  HEREWARD  FOR 
A  MAGICIAN 

OF  this  weary  Holland  war  which  dragged  it- 
self on  campaign  after  campaign  for  several 
years,  what  need  to  tell?  There  was,  doubtless, 
the  due  amount  of  murder,  plunder,  burning,  and 
worse;  and  the  final  event  was  certain  from  the 
beginning.  It  was  a  struggle  between  civilized 
and  disciplined  men,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  well 
furnished  with  ships  and  military  engines,  against 
poor  simple  folk  in  "  coats  stiffened  with  tar  and 
rosin,  or  in  very  short  jackets  of  hide  "  (says  the 
chronicler),  "  who  fought  by  threes,  two  with  a 
hooked  lance  and  three  darts  each,  and  between 
them  a  man  with  a  sword  or  an  axe,  who  held  his 
shield  before  those  two ;  —  a  very  great  multitude, 
but  in  composition  utterly  undisciplined,"  who 
came  down  to  the  sea-coast,  with  carts  and  wag- 
ons, to  carry  off  the  spoils  of  the  Flemings,  and 
bade  them  all  surrender  at  discretion,  and  go 
home  again  after  giving  up  Count  Robert  and 
Hereward,  with  the  "  tribunes  of  the  brigades,"  to 
be  put  to  death  —  as  valiant  South  Sea  islanders 
might  have  done :  and  then  found  themselves  as 
sheep  to  the  slaughter  before  the  cunning  Here- 
ward,  whom  they  esteemed  a  magician  on  account 
of  his  craft  and  his  invulnerable  armor. 


How  He  was  Taken  for  a  Magician    203 

So  at  least  says  Richard  of  Ely,  who  tells  long 
confused  stories  of  battles  and  campaigns,  some 
of  them  without  due  regard  to  chronology ;  for  it 
is  certain  that  the  brave  Zeelanders  could  not 
on  Robert's  first  landing  have  "  feared  lest  they 
should  be  conquered  by  foreigners,  as  they  had 
heard  the  English  were  by  the  French,"  inasmuch 
as  that  event  had  not  then  happened. 

And  thus  much  of  the  war  among  the  Meres  of 
Scheldt. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HOW  HEREWARD  TURNED   BERSERKER 

TORFRIDA'S  heart  misgave  her  that  first 
night  as  to  the  effects  of  her  exceeding 
frankness.  Her  pride,  in  the  first  place,  was  some- 
what wounded ;  she  had  dreamed  of  a  knight  who 
would  worship  her  as  his  queen,  hang  on  her 
smile,  die  at  her  frown ;  and  she  had  meant  to 
bring  Hereward  to  her  feet  as  such  a  slave,  in 
boundless  gratitude;  but  had  he  not  rather  held 
his  own,  and  brought  her  to  his  feet,  by  assuming 
her  devotion  as  his  right?  And  if  he  assumed 
that,  how  far  could  she  trust  him  not  to  abuse  his 
claim?  Was  he  quite  as  perfect,  seen  close,  as 
seen  afar  off?  And  now  that  the  intoxication  of 
that  meeting  had  passed  off,  she  began  to  remem- 
ber more  than  one  little  fault  which  she  would 
have  gladly  seen  mended.  Certain  roughnesses  of 
manner  which  contrasted  unfavorably  with  the 
polish  (merely  external  though  it  was)  of  the 
Flemish  and  Norman  knights;  a  boastful  self- 
sufficiency,  too,  which  bordered  on  the  ludicrous 
at  whiles  even  in  her  partial  eyes ;  which  would  be 
a  matter  of  open  laughter  to  the  knights  of  the 
court.  Besides,  if  they  laughed  at  him,  they 
would  laugh  at  her  for  choosing  him.  And  then 
wounded  vanity  came  in  to  help  wounded  pride; 


How  Hereward  Turned  Berserker     205 

and  she  sat  over  the  cold  embers  till  almost  dawn 
of  day,  her  head  between  her  hands,  musing  sadly, 
and  half  wishing  that  the  irrevocable  yesterday  had 
never  come. 

But  when,  after  a  few  months,  Hereward  returned 
from  his  first  campaign  in  Holland,  covered  with 
glory  and  renown,  all  smiles,  and  beauty,  and 
health,  and  good-humor,  and  gratitude  for  the 
magic  armor  which  had  preserved  him  unhurt, 
then  Torfrida  forgot  all  her  fears,  and  thought  her- 
self the  happiest  maid  alive  for  four-and-twenty 
hours  at  least. 

And  then  came  back,  and  after  that  again  and 
again,  the  old  fears.  Gradually  she  found  out  that 
the  sneers  which  she  had  heard  at  English  bar- 
barians were  not  altogether  without  ground.  Not 
only  had  her  lover's  life  been  passed  among  half 
brutal  and  wild  adventurers,  but,  like  the  rest  of 
his  nation,  he  had  never  felt  the  influence  of  that 
classic  civilization  without  which  good  manners 
seem,  even  to  this  day,  almost  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  western  races.  Those  among  whom  she 
had  been  brought  up,  whether  soldiers  or  clerks, 
were  probably  no  nobler  or  purer  at  heart  —  she 
would  gladly  have  believed  them  far  less  so  —  than 
Hereward ;  but  the  merest  varnish  of  Roman 
culture  had  given  a  charm  to  their  manners,  a 
wideness  of  range  to  their  thoughts,  which  Here- 
ward had  not. 

Especially  when  he  had  taken  too  much  to 
drink  —  which  he  did,  after  the  Danish  fashion,  far 
oftener  than  the  rest  of  Robert's  men  —  he  grew 
rude,  boastful,  quarrelsome.  He  would  chant  his 
own  doughty  deeds,  and  gab  (as  the  Norman  word 
was)  in  painful  earnest,  while  they  gabbed  only  in 


206  Hereward  the  Wake 

sport,  and  outvied  each  other  in  impossible  fan- 
faronades, simply  to  laugh  down  a  fashion  which 
was  held  inconsistent  with  the  modesty  of  a  true 
knight.  Bitter  it  was  to  her  to  hear  him  announce 
to  the  company,  not  for  the  first  or  second  time, 
how  he  had  slain  the  Cornish  giant,  whose  height 
increased  by  a  foot  at  least  every  time  he  was  men- 
tioned ;  and  then  to  hear  him  answered  by  some 
smart,  smooth-shaven  youth,  who,  with  as  much 
mimicry  of  his  manner  as  he  dared  to  assume, 
boasted  of  having  slain  in  Araby  a  giant  with  two 
heads,  and  taken  out  of  his  two  mouths  the  two 
halves  of  the  princess  whom  he  was  devouring, 
which  being  joined  together  afterwards  by  the 
prayers  of  a  holy  hermit,  were  delivered  back  safe 
and  sound  to  her  father,  the  King  of  Antioch. 
And  more  bitter  still  was  it  to  hear  Hereward  angrily 
dispute  the  story,  unaware  (at  least  at  first)  that  he 
was  being  laughed  at. 

Then  she  grew  sometimes  cold,  sometimes  con- 
temptuous, sometimes  altogether  fierce ;  and  shed 
bitter  tears  in  secret  when  she  was  complimented 
on  the  modesty  of  her  young  savage. 

But  Torfrida  was  a  brave  maiden ;  and  what  was 
more,  she  loved  him  with  all  her  heart.  Else  why 
endure  bitter  words  for  his  sake?  And  she  set 
herself  to  teach  and  train  the  wild  outlaw  into  her 
ideal  of  a  very  perfect  knight. 

She  talked  to  him  of  modesty  and  humility,  the 
root  of  all  virtues ;  of  chivalry  and  self-sacrifice ; 
of  respect  to  the  weak,  and  mercy  to  the  fallen ; 
of  devotion  to  God,  and  awe  of  His  commandments. 
She  set  before  him  the  example  of  ancient  heroes 
and  philosophers,  of  saints  and  martyrs;  and  as 
much  awed  him  by  her  learning,  as  by  the  new 


How  Hereward  Turned  Berserker     207 

world  of  higher  and  purer  morality,  which  was 
opened  for  the  first  time  to  the  wandering  Viking. 

He,  for  his  part,  drank  it  all  in.  Taught  by  a 
woman  who  loved  him,  he  could  listen  to  humiliat- 
ing truths,  which  he  would  have  sneered  at,  had 
they  come  from  the  lips  of  a  hermit  or  a  priest. 
Often  he  rebelled ;  often  he  broke  loose,  and  made 
her  angry,  and  himself  ashamed  :  but  the  spell  was 
on  him  —  a  far  surer,  as  well  as  purer  spell  than 
any  love-potion  of  which  foolish  Torfrida  had  ever 
dreamed  —  the  only  spell  which  can  really  civilize 
man  —  that  of  woman's  tact,  and  woman's  purity. 

Nevertheless  there  were  relapses,  as  was  natural. 
The  wine  at  Robert  the  Prison's  table  was  often 
too  good  ;  and  then  Hereward's  tongue  was  loosed, 
and  Torfrida  justly  indignant.  And  one  evening, 
there  came  a  very  serious  relapse,  out  of  which 
arose  a  strange  adventure. 

It  befell  that  the  great  marquis  sent  for  his  son 
to  Bruges,  ere  he  set  out  for  another  campaign  in 
Holland ;  and  made  him  a  great  feast,  to  which  he 
invited  Torfrida  and  her  mother.  For  Adela  of 
France,  the  queen-countess,  had  heard  so  much 
of  Torfrida's  beauty,  that  she  must  needs  have  her 
as  one  of  her  bower-maidens;  and  her  mother, 
who  was  an  old  friend  of  Adela's,  of  course  was 
highly  honored  by  such  a  promotion  for  her 
daughter. 

So  they  went  to  Bruges,  and  Hereward  and  his 
men  went  with  them  ;  and  they  feasted,  and  harped, 
and  sang ;  and  the  saying  was  fulfilled  — 

"  'T  is  merry  in  the  hall. 
When  beards  wag  all." 

But  the  only  beard  which  wagged  in  that  hall  was 
Hereward's ;  for  the  Flemings,  like  the  Normans, 


208  Hereward  the  Wake 

prided  themselves  on  their  civilized  and  smooth- 
shaven  chins,  and  laughed  (behind  his  back)  at 
Hereward,  who  prided  himself  on  keeping  his 
beautiful  English  beard,  with  locks  of  gold  which, 
like  his  long  golden  hair,  were  combed  and  curled 
daily,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Anglo-Danes. 

After  a  while  Hereward's  beard  began  to  wag 
somewhat  too  fast,  as  he  sat  by  Torfrida's  side. 
For  some  knight  near  began  to  tell  of  a  wonderful 
mare  called  Swallow,  which  was  to  be  found  in 
one  of  the  islands  of  the  Scheldt,  and  was  famous 
through  all  the  country  round;  and  insinuated, 
moreover,  that  Hereward  might  as  well  have 
brought  that  mare  home  with  him  as  a  trophy. 

To  which  Hereward  answered,  in  his  boasting 
vein,  that  he  would  bring  home  that  mare,  or  aught 
else  that  he  had  a  liking  to. 

"  You  will  find  it  not  so  easy.  Her  owner,  they 
say,  is  a  mighty  strong  churl  of  a  horse-breeder, 
Dirk  Hammerhand  by  name ;  and  as  for  cutting 
his  throat,  that  you  must  not  do ;  for  he  has  been 
loyal  to  Countess  Gertrude,  and  sent  her  horses 
whenever  she  needed." 

"  One  may  pick  a  fair  quarrel  with  him,  never- 
theless." 

"Then  you  must  bide  such  a  buffet  as  you  never 
abode  before.  They  say  his  arm  has  seven  men's 
strength ;  and  whosoever  visits  him,  he  challenges 
to  give  and  take  a  blow:  but  no  man  that  has 
taken  a  blow  as  yet,  has  ever  needed  another." 

"  Hereward  will  have  need  of  his  magic  head- 
piece, if  he  tries  that  adventure,"  quoth  another. 

"  Ay,"  retorted  the  first  speaker ;  "  but  the 
helmet  may  stand  the  rap  well  enough,  and  yet  the 
brains  inside  be  the  worse." 


How  Hereward  Turned  Berserker     209 

"  Not  a  doubt.  I  knew  a  man  once,  who  was  so 
strong  that  he  would  shake  a  nut  till  the  kernel 
went  to  powder,  and  yet  never  break  the  shell." 

"  That  is  a  lie ! "  quoth  Hereward.  And  so  it 
was,  and  told  purposely  to  make  him  expose 
himself. 

Whereon  high  words  followed,  which  Torfrida 
tried  in  vain  to  stop.  Hereward  was  flushed  with 
ire  and  scorn. 

"  Magic  armor,  forsooth ! "  cried  he  at  last. 
"What  care  I  for  armor  or  for  magic?  I  will 
wager  to  you"  —  "my  armor,"  he  was  on  the 
point  of  saying,  but  he  checked  himself  in  time  — 
"  any  horse  in  my  stable,  that  I  go  in  my  shirt  to 
Scaldmariland,  and  bring  back  that  mare  single- 
handed." 

"  Hark  to  the  Englishman  !  He  has  turned  Ber- 
serker at  last,  like  his  forefathers.  You  will  surely 
start  in  a  pair  of  hose  as  well,  or  the  ladies  will  be 
shamed?  " 

And  so  forth,  till  Torfrida  was  purple  with 
shame,  and  wished  herself  fathoms  deep;  and 
Adela  of  France  called  sternly  from  the  head  of 
the  table  to  ask  what  the  wrangling  meant. 

"It  is  only  the  English  Berserker,  the  Lady 
Torfrida's  champion,"  said  some  one  in  his  most 
courteous  tone,  "  who  is  not  yet  as  well  acquainted 
with  the  customs  of  knighthood  as  that  fair  lady 
hopes  to  make  him  hereafter." 

"  Torfrida's  champion?"  asked  Adela,  in  a  tone 
of  surprise,  if  not  scorn. 

"  If  any  knight  quarrels  with  my  Hereward,  he 
quarrels  with  Robert  himself!  "  thundered  Count 
Robert.  "  Silence !  " 

And  so  the  matter  was  hushed  up. 

Vol.  12— J 


2io  Hereward  the  Wake 

The  banquet  ended ;  and  they  walked  out  into 
the  garden  to  cool  their  heads,  and  play  at  games, 
and  dance. 

Torfrida  avoided  Hereward:  but  he,  with  the 
foolish  pertinacity  of  a  man  who  knows  he  has 
had  too  much  wine,  and  yet  pretends  to  himself 
that  he  has  not,  would  follow  her,  and  speak  to 
her. 

She  turned  away  more  than  once.  At  last  she 
was  forced  to  speak  to  him. 

"  So  !  You  have  made  me  a  laughing-stock  to 
these  knights.  You  have  scorned  at  my  gifts. 
You  have  said  —  and  before  these  men,  too  —  that 
you  need  neither  helm  nor  hauberk.  Give  me 
them  back,  then,  Berserker  as  you  are,  and  go 
sleep  off  your  wine." 

"  That  will  I,"  laughed  Hereward,  boisterously. 

"  You  are  tipsy,"  said  she,  "  and  do  not  know 
what  you  say." 

"  You  are  angry,  and  do  not  know  what  you  say. 
Hearken,  proud  lass.  I  will  take  care  of  one  thing, 
and  that  is,  that  you  shall  speak  the  truth." 

"  Did  I  not  say  that  you  were  tipsy?  " 

"  Pish !  You  said  that  I  was  a  Berserker.  And 
truth  you  shall  speak ;  for  baresark  I  go  to-morrow 
to  the  war,  and  baresark  I  win  that  mare  or  die." 

"  That  will  be  very  fit  for  you." 

And  the  two  turned  haughtily  from  each  other. 

Ere  Torfrida  went  to  bed  that  night,  there  was  a 
violent  knocking.  Angry  as  she  was,  she  was  yet 
anxious  enough  to  hurry  out  of  her  chamber,  and 
open  the  door  herself. 

Martin  Lightfoot  stood  there  with  a  large 
leather  mail,  which  he  flung  at  her  feet  some- 
what unceremoniously. 


How  Hereward  Turned  Berserker     2 1 1 

"  There  is  some  gear  of  yours,"  said  he,  as  it 
clanged  and  rattled  on  the  floor. 

"What  do  you  mean,  man?  " 

"  Only  that  my  master  bid  me  say  that  he  cares 
as  little  for  his  own  life  as  you  do."  And  he  turned 
away. 

She  canght  him  by  the  arm :  — 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  What  is  in  this 
mail?" 

"You  should  know  best.  If  young  folks  cannot 
be  content  when  they  are  well  off,  they  will  go 
farther  and  fare  worse,"  says  Martin  Lightfoot. 
And  he  slipped  from  her  grasp  and  fled  into  the 
night. 

She  took  the  mail  to  her  room  and  opened  it. 
It  contained  the  magic  armor. 

All  her  anger  was  melted  away.  She  cried ;  she 
blamed  herself.  He  would  be  killed;  his  blood 
would  be  on  her  head.  She  would  have  carried  it 
back  to  him  with  her  own  hands ;  she  would  have 
entreated  him  on  her  knees  to  take  it  back.  But 
how  face  the  courtiers  ?  and  how  find  him  ?  Very 
probably,  too,  he  was  by  that  time  hopelessly 
drunk.  And  at  that  thought  she  drew  herself  into 
herself,  tried  to  harden  her  heart  again,  and  went 
to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  Bitterly  she  cried  as  she 
thought  over  the  old  hag's  croon  — 

"  Quick  joy,  long  pain, 
You  will  take  your  gift  again." 

It  might  have  been  five  o'clock  the  next  morning 
when  the  clarion  rang  down  the  street.  She  sprang 
up  and  dressed  herself  quickly,  but  never  more 
carefully  or  gayly.  She  heard  the  tramp  of  horse- 
hoofs.  He  was  moving  a-field  early,  indeed. 


2 1 2  Hereward  the  Wake 

Should  she  go  to  the  window  to  bid  him  farewell  ? 
Should  she  hide  herself  in  just  anger? 

She  looked  out  stealthily  through  the  blind  of 
the  little  window  in  the  gable.  There  rode  down 
the  street  Robert  le  Prison  in  full  armor,  and  behind 
him,  knight  after  knight,  a  wall  of  shining  steel. 
But  by  his  side  rode  one  bareheaded,  his  long 
yellow  curls  floating  over  his  shoulders.  His  boots 
had  golden  spurs,  a  gilt  belt  held  up  his  sword ;  but 
his  only  dress  was  a  silk  shirt  and  silk  hose.  He 
laughed  and  sang,  and  made  his  horse  caracol,  and 
tossed  his  lance  in  the  air,  and  caught  it  by  the 
point,  like  Taillefer  at  Hastings,  as  he  passed  under 
the  window. 

She  threw  open  the  blind,  careless  of  all  appear- 
ances. She  would  have  called  to  him :  but  the 
words  choked  her;  and  what  should  she  say? 

He  looked  up  boldly,  and  smiled. 

"Farewell,  fair  lady  mine.  Drunk  I  was  last 
night,  but  not  so  drunk  as  to  forget  a  promise." 

And  he  rode  on,  while  Torfrida  rushed  away  and 
broke  into  wild  weeping. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

HOW  HEREWARD   WON  MARE  SWALLOW 

ON  a  bench  at  the  door  of  his  high-roofed 
wooden  house  sat  Dirk  Hammerhand,  the 
richest  man  in  Walcheren.  From  within  the  house 
sounded  the  pleasant  noise  of  slave-women,  grind- 
ing and  chatting  at  the  handquern ;  from  without, 
the  pleasant  noise  of  geese  and  fowls  without  num- 
ber. And  as  he  sat  and  drank  his  ale,  and  watched 
the  herd  of  horses  in  the  fen.  he  thought  himself  a 
happy  man,  and  thanked  his  Odin  and  Thor  that, 
owing  to  his  princely  supplies  of  horses  to  Count- 
ess Gertrude,  Robert  the  Prison  and  his  Christian 
Franks  had  not  yet  harried  him  to  the  bare  walls, 
as  they  would  probably  do  ere  all  was  over. 

As  he  looked  at  the  horses,  some  half  mile  off, 
he  saw  a  strange  stir  among  them.  They  began 
whinnying  and  pawing  round  a  four-footed  thing  in 
the  midst,  which  might  be  a  badger,  or  a  wolf — 
though  both  were  very  uncommon  in  that  pleasant 
isle  of  Walcheren ;  but  which  had  plainly  no  busi- 
ness there.  Whereon  he  took  up  a  mighty  staff, 
and  strode  over  the  fen  to  see. 

He  found  neither  wolf  nor  badger :  but  to  his  ex- 
ceeding surprise,  a  long  lean  man,  clothed  in  ragged 
horse-skins,  whinnying  and  neighing  exactly  like  a 
horse,  and  then  stooping  to  eat  grass  like  one.  He 


214  Hereward  the  Wake 

advanced  to  do  the  first  thing  which  came  into  his 
head,  namely,  to  break  the  man's  back  with  his 
staff,  and  ask  him  afterwards  who  he  might  be. 
But  ere  he  could  strike,  the  man  or  horse  kicked 
up  with  its  hind  legs  in  his  face,  and  then  springing 
on  to  the  said  hind  legs  ran  away  with  extraordi- 
nary swiftness  some  fifty  yards ;  after  which  it  went 
down  on  all  fours  and  began  grazing  again. 

"Beest  thou  man  or  devil?"  cried  Dirk,  some- 
what frightened. 

The  thing  looked  up.  The  face  at  least  was 
human. 

"Art  thou  a  Christian  man?"  asked  it  in  bad 
Frisian,  intermixed  with  snorts  and  neighs. 

"What's  that  to  thee?"  growled  Dirk;  and  be- 
gan to  wish  a  little  that  he  was  one,  having  heard 
that  the  sign  of  the  cross  was  of  great  virtue  in 
driving  away  fiends. 

"  Thou  art  not  Christian.  Thou  believest  in 
Thor  and  Odin?  Then  there  is  hope." 

"  Hope  of  what?"  Dirk  was  growing  more  and 
more  frightened. 

"  Of  her,  my  sister !  Ah,  my  sister,  can  it  be 
that  I  shall  find  thee  at  last,  after  ten  thousand 
miles,  and  seven  years  of  woful  wandering?  " 

"  I  have  no  man's  sister  here.  At  least,  my 
wife's  brother  was  killed " 

"  I  speak  not  of  a  sister  in  woman's  shape. 
Mine,  alas !  —  O  woful  prince,  O  more  woful  prin- 
cess —  eats  the  herb  of  the  field  somewhere  in  the 
shape  of  a  mare,  as  ugly  as  she  was  once  beautiful, 
but  swifter  than  the  swallow  on  the  wing." 

"  I  've  none  such  here,"  quoth  Dirk,  thoroughly 
frightened,  and  glancing  uneasily  at  mare  Swallow. 

"You  have  not?     Alas,  wretched  me!     It  was 


Hew  Hereward  Won  Mare  Swallow    215 

prophesied  to  me  by  the  witch  that  I  should  find 
her  in  the  field  of  one  who  worshipped  the  old 
gods ;  for  had  she  come  across  a  holy  priest,  she 
had  been  a  woman  again,  long  ago.  Whither 
must  I  wander  afresh !  "  And  the  thing  began 
weeping  bitterly,  and  then  ate  more  grass. 

"I — that  is  —  thou  poor  miserable  creature," 
said  Dirk,  half  pitying,  half  wishing  to  turn  the 
subject ;  "  leave  off  making  a  beast  of  thyself 
awhile,  and  tell  me  who  thou  art." 

"  I  have  made  no  beast  of  myself,  most  noble 
earl  of  the  Frisians,  for  so  you  doubtless  are.  I  was 
made  a  beast  of —  a  horse  of,  by  an  enchanter  of 
a  certain  land,  and  my  sister  a  mare." 

"  Thou  dost  not  say  so  !  "  quoth  Dirk,  who  con- 
sidered such  an  event  quite  possible. 

"  I  was  a  prince  of  the  county  of  Alboronia, 
which  lies  between  Cathay  and  the  Mountains  of 
the  Moon,  as  fair  once  as  I  am  foul  now,  and  only 
less  fair  than  my  lost  sister ;  and  by  the  enchant- 
ments of  a  cruel  magician  we  became  what  we 
are." 

"  But  thou  art  not  a  horse,  at  all  events?  " 

"  Am  I  not?  Thou  knowest,  then,  more  of  me 
than  I  do  of  myself,"  and  it  ate  more  grass.  "  But 
hear  the  rest  of  my  story.  My  hapless  sister  was 
sold  away  with  me  to  a  merchant :  but  I,  breaking 
loose  from  him,  fled  until  I  bathed  in  a  magic 
fountain.  At  once  I  recovered  my  man's  shape, 
and  was  rejoicing  therein,  when  out  of  the  fountain 
rose  a  fairy  more  beautiful  than  an  elf,  and  smiled 
upon  me  with  love." 

"  She  asked  me  my  story,  and  I  told  it.  And 
when  it  was  told  —  '  Wretch  ! '  she  cried,  '  and 
coward,  who  hast  deserted  thy  sister  in  her  need. 


216  Hereward  the  Wake 

I  would  have  loved  thee,  and  made  thee  immortal 
as  myself:  but  now  thou  shalt  wander  ugly  and 
eating  grass,  clothed  in  the  horse-hide  which  has 
just  dropped  from  thy  limbs,  till  thou  shalt  find 
thy  sister,  and  bring  her  to  bathe,  like  thee,  in  this 
magic  well.' " 

"  All  good  spirits  help  us  !  And  you  are  really 
a  prince?" 

"  As  surely,"  cried  the  thing  with  a  voice  of 
sudden  rapture,  "  as  that  mare  is  my  sister ;  "  and 
he  rushed  at  mare  Swallow.  "  I  see,  I  see,  my 
mother's  eyes,  my  father's  nose " 

"  He  must  have  been  a  chuckle-headed  king 
that,  then,"  grinned  Dirk  to  himself.  "  The  mare's 
nose  is  as  big  as  a  buck-basket.  But  how  can  she 
be  a  princess,  man  —  prince,  I  mean?  she  has  a 
foal  running  by  her  here." 

"A  foal?"  said  the  thing,  solemnly.  "  Let  me 
behold  it.  Alas,  alas,  my  sister !  Thy  tyrant's 
threat  has  come  true,  that  thou  shouldst  be  his 
bride  whether  thou  wouldst  or  not.  I  see,  I  see 
in  the  features  of  thy  son  his  hated  lineaments." 

"  Why,  he  must  be  as  like  a  horse,  then,  as  your 
father.  But  this  will  not  do,  Master  Horse-man ; 
I  know  that  foal's  pedigree  better  than  I  do  my 
own." 

"  Man,  man,  simple  though  honest !  —  hast  thou 
never  heard  of  the  skill  of  the  enchanters  of  the 
East?  How  they  transform  their  victims  at  night 
back  again  into  human  shape,  and  by  day  into  the 
shape  of  beasts  again?" 

"  Yes  —  well  —  I  know  that " 

"And  do  you  not  see  how  you  are  deluded? 
Every  night,  doubt  not,  that  mare  and  foal  take 
their  human  shape  again;  and  every  night,  per- 


How  Hereward  Won  Mare  Swallow    217 

haps,  that  foul  enchanter  visits  in  your  fen,  per- 
haps in  your  very  stable,  his  wretched  bride 
restored  (alas,  only  for  an  hour !)  into  her  human 
shape." 

"An  enchanter  in  my  stable?  That  is  an  ugly 
guest.  But  no.  I  Ve  been  into  the  stables  fifty 
times,  to  see  if  that  mare  was  safe.  Mare  was 
mare,  and  colt  was  colt,  Mr.  Prince,  if  I  have  eyes 
to  see." 

"  And  what  are  eyes  against  enchantments  ? 
The  moment  you  opened  the  door,  the  spell  was 
cast  over  them  again.  You  ought  to  thank  your 
stars  that  no  worse  has  happened  yet;  that  the 
enchanter,  in  fleeing,  has  not  wrung  your  neck  as 
he  went  out,  or  cast  a  spell  on  you,  which  will 
fire  your  barns,  lame  your  geese,  give  your  fowls 
the  pip,  your  horses  the  glanders,  your  cattle  the 
murrain,  your  children  St.  Vitus'  dance,  your  wife 
the  creeping  palsy,  and  yourself  the  chalk-stones 
in  all  your  fingers." 

"  All  saints  have  mercy  on  me  !  If  the  half  of 
this  be  true,  I  will  turn  Christian.  I  will  send  for 
a  priest,  and  be  baptized  to-morrow !  " 

"  O  my  sister,  my  sister !  Dost  thou  not 
know  trft?  Dost  thou  answer  my  caresses  with 
kicks?  Or  is  thy  heart,  as  well  as  thy  body,  so 
enchained  by  that  cruel  necromancer,  that  thou 
preferrest  to  be  his,  and  scornest  thine  own  salva- 
tion, leaving  me  to  eat  grass  till  I  die?  " 

"I  say,  prince  —  I  say  —  what  would  you  have 
a  man  to  do?  I  bought  the  mare  honestly,  and  I 
have  kept  her  well.  She  can't  say  aught  against 
me  on  that  score.  And  whether  she  be  princess 
or  not,  I  'm  loath  to  part  with  her." 

"  Keep  her  then,  and  keep  with  her  the  curse  of 


2i 8  Hereward  the  Wake 

all  the  saints  and  angels.  Look  down,  ye  holy 
saints  "  (and  the  thing  poured  out  a  long  string  of 
saints'  names),  "  and  avenge  this  catholic  princess, 
kept  in  vile  durance  by  an  unbaptized  heathen  ! 
May  his " 

"  Don't,  don't !  "  roared  Dirk.  "  And  don't  look 
at  me  like  that"  (-'or  he  feared  the  evil  eye),  "or 
I  '11  brain  you  with  my  staff !  " 

"  Fool !  If  I  have  lost  a  horse's  figure,  I  have 
not  lost  his  swiftness.  Ere  thou  couldst  strike,  I 
should  have  run  a  mile  and  back,  to  curse  thee 
afresh."  And  the  thing  ran  round  him,  and  fell 
on  all  fours  again,  and  ate  grass. 

"  Mercy,  mercy !  And  that  is  more  than  I  ever 
asked  yet  of  man.  But  it  is  hard,"  growled  he, 
"that  a  man  should  lose  his  money,  because  a 
rogue  sells  him  a  princess  in  disguise." 

"  Then  sell  her  again ;  sell  her,  as  thou  valuest 
thy  life,  to  the  first  Christian  man  thou  meetest. 
And  yet  no.  What  matters?  Ere  a  month  be 
over,  the  seven  years'  enchantment  will  have 
passed;  and  she  will  return  to  her  own  shape, 
with  her  son,  and  vanish  from  thy  farm,  leaving 
thee  to  vain  repentance ;  whereby  thou  wilt  both 
lose  thy  money,  and  get  her  curse.  Farewell,  and 
my  malison  abide  with  thee  !  " 

And  the  thing,  without  another  word,  ran  right 
away,  neighing  as  it  went,  leaving  Dirk  in  a  state 
of  abject  terror. 

He  went  home.  He  cursed  the  mare,  he  cursed 
the  man  who  sold  her,  he  cursed  the  day  he  saw 
her,  he  cursed  the  day  he  was  born.  He  told  his 
story  with  exaggerations  and  confusions  in  plenty 
to  all  in  the  house ;  and  terror  fell  on  them  like- 
wise. No  one,  that  evening,  dare  go  down  into 


How  Hereward  Won  Mare  Swallow    219 

the  fen  to  drive  the  horses  up;  while  Dirk  got 
very  drunk,  went  to  bed,  and  trembled  there  all 
night  (as  did  the  rest  of  the  household),  expect- 
ing the  enchanter  to  enter  on  a  flaming  fire-drake, 
at  every  howl  of  the  wind. 

The  next  morning,  as  Dirk  was  going  about  his 
business  with  a  doleful  face,  casting  stealthy  glances 
at  the  fen,  to  see  if  the  mysterious  mare  was  still 
there,  and  a  chance  of  his  money  still  left,  a  man 
rode  up  to  the  door. 

He  was  poorly  clothed,  with  a  long  rusty  sword 
by  his  side.  A  broad  felt  hat,  long  boots,  and  a 
haversack  behind  his  saddle,  showed  him  to  be 
a  traveller,  seemingly  a  horse  dealer;  for  there 
followed  him,  tied  head  and  tail,  a  brace  of  sorry 
nags. 

41  Heaven  save  all  here,"  quoth  he,  making  the 
sign  of  the  cross.  "  Can  any  good  Christian  give 
me  a  drink  of  milk?  " 

"  Ale,  if  thou  wilt,"  said  Dirk.  "  But  what  art 
thou,  and  whence  ?  " 

On  any  other  day,  he  would  have  tried  to  coax 
his  guest  into  trying  a  buffet  with  him  for  his  horse 
and  clothes :  but  this  morning  his  heart  was  heavy 
with  the  thought  of  the  enchanted  mare,  and 
he  welcomed  the  chance  of  selling  her  to  the 
stranger. 

"  We  are  not  very  fond  of  strangers  about  here, 
since  these  Flemings  have  been  harrying  our 
borders.  If  thou  art  a  spy,  it  will  be  worse  for 
thee." 

"I  am  neither  spy  nor  Fleming;  but  a  poor 
servant  of  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Utrecht's,  buying  a 
garron  or  two  for  his  lordship's  priests.  As  for 
these  Flemings,  may  St.  John  Baptist  save  from 


22O  Hereward  the  Wake 

them  both  me  and  you.  Do  you  know  of  any 
man  who  has  horses  to  sell  hereabouts  ?  " 

"There  are  horses  in  the  fen  yonder,"  quoth 
Dirk,  who  knew  that  churchmen  were  likely  to 
give  a  liberal  price,  and  pay  in  good  silver. 

"  I  saw  them  as  I  rode  up.  And  a  fine  lot  they 
are :  but  of  too  good  a  stamp  for  my  short  purse, 
or  for  my  holy  master's  riding,  —  a  fat  priest  likes 
a  quiet  nag,  my  master." 

"  Humph.  Well,  if  quietness  is  what  you  need, 
there  is  a  mare  down  there,  that  a  child  might  ride 

with  a  thread  of  wool.  But  as  for  price And 

she  has  a  colt,  too,  running  by  her." 

"Ah?"  quoth  the  horseman.  "Well,  your 
Walcheren  folk  make  good  milk,  that  's  certain. 
A  colt  by  her?  That's  awkward.  My  lord  does 
not  like  young  horses;  and  it  would  be  trouble- 
some, too,  to  take  the  thing  along  with  me." 

The  less  anxious  the  dealer  seemed  to  buy,  the 
more  anxious  grew  Dirk  to  sell ;  but  he  concealed 
his  anxiety,  and  let  the  stranger  turn  away,  thank- 
ing him  for  his  drink. 

"  I  say !  "  he  called  after  him.  "  You  might 
look  at  her,  as  you  ride  past  the  herd." 

The  stranger  assented ;  and  they  went  down  into 
the  fen,  and  looked  over  the  precious  mare,  whose 
feats  were  afterwards  sung  by  many  an  English 
fireside,  or  in  the  forest  beneath  the  hollins  green, 
by  such  as  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men.  The 
ugliest,  as  well  as  the  swiftest  of  mares,  she  was,  say 
the  old  chroniclers ;  and  it  was  not  till  the  stranger 
had  looked  twice  at  her,  that  he  forgot  her  great 
chuckle-head,  greyhound  flanks,  and  drooping 
hindquarters,  and  began  to  see  the  great  length 
of  those  same  quarters,  the  thighs  let  down  into 


How  Hereward  Won  Mare  Swallow    221 

the  hocks,  the  compact  loin,  the  extraordinary 
girth  through  the  saddle,  the  sloping  shoulder,  the 
long  arms,  the  flat  knees,  the  large  well-set  hoofs, 
and  all  the  other  points  which  showed  her  strength 
and  speed,  and  justified  her  fame. 

"  She  might  carry  a  big  man  like  you  through 
the  mud,"  said  he,  carelessly :  "  but  as  for  pace, 
one  cannot  expect  that  with  such  a  chuckle-head. 
And  if  one  rode  her  through  a  town,  the  boys 
would  call  after  one, '  All  head  and  no  tail '  —  Why, 
I  can't  see  her  tail  for  her  croup,  it  is  so  ill  set 
on." 

"  111  set  on,  or  none,"  said  Dirk,  testily,  "  don't 
go  to  speak  against  her  pace  till  you  have  seen  it 
Here,  lass !  " 

Dirk  was  in  his  heart  rather  afraid  of  the  prin- 
cess ;  but  he  was  comforted  when  she  came  up  to 
him  like  a  dog. 

"  She 's  as  sensible  as  a  woman,"  said  he ;  and 
then  grumbled  to  himself,  "  may  be  she  knows  I 
mean  to  part  with  her." 

"  Lend  me  your  saddle,"  said  he  to  the  stranger. 

The  stranger  did  so ;  and  Dirk  mounting,  gal- 
loped her  in  a  ring.  There  was  no  doubt  of  her 
powers  as  soon  as  she  began  to  move. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  remember  this  against  me, 
madam,"  said  Dirk,  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  the 
stranger's  hearing.  "  I  can't  do  less  than  sell 
you  to  a  Christian.  And  certainly  I  have  been  as 
good  a  master  to  you  as  if  I  'd  known  who  you 
were ;  but  if  you  wish  to  stay  with  me,  you  Ve 
only  to  kick  me  off,  and  say  so ;  and  I  'm  yours  to 
command." 

"  Well,  she  can  gallop  a  bit,"  said  the  stranger, 
as  Dirk  pulled  her  up  and  dismounted ;  "  but  an 


222  Hereward  the  Wake 

ugly  brute  she  is,  nevertheless,  and  such  an  one 
as  I  should  not  care  to  ride,  for  I  am  a  gay  man 
among  the  ladies.  However,  what  is  your  price?" 

Dirk  named  twice  as  much  as  he  would  have 
taken. 

"  Half  that,  you  mean."  And  the  usual  haggle 
began. 

"  Tell  thee  what,"  said  Dirk,  at  last.  "I  am  a 
man  who  has  his  fancies;  and  this  shall  be  her 
price ;  half  thy  bid,  and  a  box  on  the  ear." 

The  demon  of  covetousness  had  entered  Dirk's 
heart.  What  if  he  got  the  money ;  brained,  or  at 
least  disabled  the  stranger ;  and  so  had  a  chance  of 
selling  the  mare  a  second  time  to  some  fresh  comer? 

"Thou  art  a  strange  fellow,"  quoth  the  horse- 
dealer.  "  But  so  be  it." 

Dirk  chuckled.  "  He  does  not  know,"  thought 
he,  "  that  he  has  to  do  with  Dirk  Hammerhand," 
and  he  clenched  his  fist  in  anticipation  of  his 
rough  joke. 

"  There,"  quoth  the  stranger,  counting  out  the 
money  carefully,  "is  thy  coin.  And  there — is 
thy  box  on  the  ear." 

And  with  a  blow  which  rattled  over  the  fen,  he 
felled  Dirk  Hammerhand  to  the  ground. 

He  lay  senseless  for  a  moment,  and  then  looked 
wildly  round. 

"  Villain  !  "  groaned  he.  "  It  was  I  who  was  to 
give  the  buffet,  not  thou  !  " 

"  Art  mad  ?  "  asked  the  stranger,  as  he  coolly 
picked  up  the  coins,  which  Dirk  had  scattered  in 
his  fall.  "  It  is  the  seller's  business  to  take,  and 
the  buyer's  to  give." 

And  while  Dirk  roared  in  vain  for  help,  he 
leaped  on  Swallow,  and  rode  off  shouting  — 


How  Hereward  Won  Mare  Swallow    223 

"  Aha !  Dirk  Hammerhand  !  So  you  thought 
to  knock  a  hole  in  my  skull,  as  you  have  done  to 
many  a  better  man  than  yourself  ?  He  must  be  a 
luckier  man  than  you,  who  catches  the  Wake 
asleep.  I  shall  give  your  love  to  the  enchanted 
prince,  my  faithful  serving-man,  whom  they  call 
Martin  Lightfoot." 

Dirk  cursed  the  day  he  was  born.  Instead  of 
the  mare  and  colt,  he  had  got  the  two  wretched 
garrons  which  the  stranger  had  left,  and  a  face 
which  made  him  so  tender  of  his  own  teeth  that 
he  never  again  offered  to  try  a  buffet  with  a 
stranger. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HOW  HEREWARD   RODE  INTO  BRUGES   LIKE  A 
BEGGARMAN 

f  I^HE  spring  and  summer  had  passed,  and  the 
JL  autumn  was  almost  over,  when  great  news 
came  to  the  court  of  Bruges,  where  Torfrida  was 
now  a  bower-maiden. 

The  Zeelanders  had  been  beaten  till  they  sub- 
mitted ;  at  least  for  the  present.  There  was  peace, 
at  least  for  the  present,  through  all  the  isles  of 
Scheldt;  and  more  than  all,  the  lovely  Countess 
Gertrude  had  resolved  to  reward  her  champion  by 
giving  him  her  hand,  and  the  guardianship  of  her 
lands  and  her  infant  son. 

And  Hereward? 

From  him,  or  of  him,  there  was  no  word.  That 
he  was  alive  and  fighting  was  all  the  messenger 
could  say. 

Then  Robert  came  back  to  Bruges,  with  a  gal- 
lant retinue,  leading  home  his  bride.  And  there 
met  him  his  father  and  mother,  and  his  brother  of 
Mons,  and  Richilda  the  beautiful  and  terrible  sor- 
ceress—  who  had  not  yet  stained  her  soul  with 
those  crimes  which  she  expiated  by  fearful  pen- 
ances in  after  years,  when  young  Arnoul,  the  son 
for  whom  she  had  sold  her  soul,  lay  dead  upon  the 


How  Hereward  Rode  into  Bruges    225 

battlefield  which  was  to  have  made  him  a  mighty 
prince.  And  Torfrida  went  out  with  the  nobles  to 
meet  Count  Robert,  and  looked  for  Hereward,  till 
her  eyes  were  ready  to  fall  out  of  her  head.  But 
Hereward  was  not  with  them. 

"  He  must  be  left  behind,  commanding  the 
army,"  thought  she.  "But  he  might  have  sent 
one  word  !  " 

There  was  a  great  feast  that  day,  of  course ;  and 
Torfrida  sat  thereat :  but  she  could  not  eat.  Never- 
theless she  was  too  proud  to  let  the  knights  know 
what  was  in  her  heart;  so  she  chatted  and  laughed 
as  gayly  as  the  rest,  watching  always  for  any  word 
of  Hereward.  But  none  mentioned  his  name. 

The  feast  was  long ;  the  ladies  did  not  rise  till 
nigh  bedtime;  and  then  the  men  drank  on. 

They  went  up  to  the  queen-countess's  cham- 
ber ;  where  a  solemn  undressing  of  that  royal  lady 
usually  took  place. 

The  etiquette  was  this.  The  queen-countess 
sat  in  her  chair  of  state  in  the  midst,  till  her  shoes 
were  taken  off,  and  her  hair  dressed  for  the  night. 
Right  and  left  of  her,  according  to  their  degrees, 
sat  the  other  great  ladies;  and  behind  each  of 
them,  where  they  could  find  places,  the  maidens. 

It  was  Torfrida's  turn  to  take  off  the  royal  shoes ; 
and  she  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  semicircle, 
slippers  in  hand. 

"  Stop  there  !  "  said  the  countess-queen. 

Whereat  Torfrida  stopped,  very  much  frightened. 

"  Countesses  and  ladies,"  said  the  mistress, 
"  there  are,  in  Provence  and  the  South,  what  I 
wish  there  were  here  in  Flanders,  —  courts  of 
Love,  at  which  all  offenders  against  the  sacred 
laws  of  Venus  and  Cupid  are  tried  by  an  assembly 


226  Hereward  the  Wake 

of  their  peers,  and  punished  according  to  their 
deserts." 

Torfrida  turned  scarlet. 

"  I  know  not  why  we,  countesses  and  ladies, 
should  have  less  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  love 
than  those  gayer  dames  of  the  South,  whose  blood 
runs  —  to  judge  by  her  dark  hair  —  in  the  veins  of 
yon  fair  maid." 

There  was  a  silence.  Torfrida  was  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  room,  more  beautiful  than 
even  Richilda  the  terrible;  and  therefore  there 
were  few  but  were  glad  to  see  her  —  as  it  seemed 
—  in  trouble. 

Torfrida's  mother  began  whimpering,  and  pray- 
ing to  six  or  seven  saints  at  once.  But  nobody 
marked  her  —  possibly  not  even  the  saints ;  being 
preoccupied  with  Torfrida. 

"  I  hear,  fair  maid  —  for  that  you  are  that  I  will 
do  you  the  justice  to  confess  —  that  you  are  old 
enough  to  be  married  this  four  years  since." 

Torfrida  stood  like  a  stone,  frightened  out  of  her 
wits,  plentiful  as  they  were. 

"  Why  are  you  not  married  ?  " 

There  was,  of  course,  no  answer. 

"  I  hear  that  knights  have  fought  for  you ;  lost 
their  lives  for  you." 

"  I  did  not  bid  them,"  gasped  Torfrida,  longing 
that  the  floor  would  open  and  swallow  up  the 
queen-countess  and  all  her  kin  and  followers,  as 
it  did  for  the  enemies  of  the  blessed  Saint  Dunstan, 
while  he  was  arguing  with  them  in  an  upper  room 
at  Calne. 

"And  that  the  knight  of  St.  Valeri,  to  whom 
you  gave  your  favor,  now  lies  languishing  of 
wounds  got  in  your  cause." 


How  Hereward  Rode  into  Bruges    227 

"  I  —  I  did  not  bid  him  fight,"  gasped  Torfrida, 
now  wishing  that  the  floor  would  open  and  swallow 
up  herself. 

"  And  that  he  who  overthrew  the  knight  of  St. 
Valeri,  —  to  whom  you  gave  that  favor,  and 
more " 

"  I  gave  him  nothing  a  maiden  might  not  give," 
cried  Torfrida,  so  fiercely  that  the  queen-countess 
recoiled  somewhat. 

"  I  never  said  that  you  did,  girl.  Your  love  you 
gave  him.  Can  you  deny  that?  " 

Torfrida  laughed  bitterly:  her  southern  blood 
was  rising. 

"  I  put  my  love  out  to  nurse,  instead  of  weaning 
it,  as  many  a  maiden  has  done  before  me,  and 
thought  no  harm.  When  my  love  cried  for  hunger 
and  cold,  I  took  it  back  again  to  my  own  bosom : 
and  whether  it  has  lived  or  died  there,  is  no  one's 
matter  but  my  own." 

"  Hunger  and  cold?  I  hear  that  him  to  whom 
you  gave  your  love,  you  drove  out  to  the  cold, 
bidding  him  go  fight  in  his  bare  shirt,  if  he  wished 
to  win  your  love." 

"  I  did  not.     He  angered  me  —  He "  and 

Torfrida   found   herself  in   the    act   of   accusing 
Hereward. 

She  stopped  instantly. 

"What  more,  your  highness?  If  this  be  true, 
what  more  may  not  be  true  of  such  an  one  as  I  ?  I 
submit  myself  to  your  royal  grace." 

"  She  has  confessed.  What  punishment,  ladies, 
does  she  deserve?  Or,  rather,  what  punishment 
would  her  cousins  of  Provence  inflict,  did  we  send 
her  southward,  to  be  judged  by  their  courts  of  love  ?  " 

One  lady  said  one  thing,  one  another.     Some 


228  Hereward  the  Wake 

spoke  cruelly ;  some  worse  than  cruelly ;  for  they 
were  coarse  ages,  the  ages  of  faith ;  and  ladies  said 
things  then  in  open  company  which  gentlemen 
would  be  ashamed  to  say  in  private  now. 

"  Marry  her  to  a  fool,"  said  Richilda,  at  last, 
bitterly. 

"That  is  too  common  a  misfortune,"  answered 
the  lady  of  France.  "  If  we  did  no  more  to  her, 
she  might  grow  as  proud  as  her  betters." 

Adela  knew  that  her  daughter-in-law  considered 
her  husband  a  fool ;  and  was  somewhat  of  the  same 
opinion,  though  she  hated  Richilda. 

"  No,"  said  she ;  "  we  will  do  more.  We  will 
marry  her  to  the  first  man  who  enters  the  castle." 

Torfrida  looked  at  her  mistress  to  see  if  she  were 
mad.  But  the  countess-queen  was  serene  and 
sane.  Then  Torfrida's  southern  heat  and  northern 
courage  burst  forth. 

"You?  marry?  me?  to? "  said  she,  slowly, 

with  eyes  so  fierce  and  lips  so  livid  that  Adela 
herself  quailed. 

There  was  a  noise  of  shouting  and  laughing  in 
the  court  below,  which  made  all  turn  and  listen. 

The  next  moment  a  serving-man  came  in, 
puzzled  and  inclined  to  laugh. 

"  May  it  please  your  Highness,  here  is  the 
strangest  adventure.  There  is  ridden  into  the 
castle-yard  a  beggarman  with  scarce  a  shirt  to  his 
back,  on  a  great  ugly  mare  with  a  foal  running  by 
her;  and  a  fool  behind  him  carrying  lance  and 
shield.  And  he  says  that  he  has  come  to  fight 
any  knight  of  the  court,  ragged  as  he  stands,  for 
the  fairest  lady  in  the  court,  be  she  who  she  may, 
if  she  have  not  a  wedded  husband  already." 

"And  what  says  my  lord  marquis?" 


How  Hereward  Rode  into  Bruges    229 

"  That  it  is  a  fair  challenge  and  a  good  adven- 
ture; and  that  fight  he  shall,  if  any  man  will 
answer  his  defiance." 

"  And  I  say,  tell  my  lord  marquis  that  fight  he 
shall  not:  for  he  shall  have  the  fairest  maiden  in 
this  court  for  the  trouble  of  carrying  her  away; 
and  that  I,  Adela  of  France,  will  give  her  to  him. 
So  let  that  beggar  dismount,  and  be  brought  up 
hither  to  me." 

There  was  silence  again.  Torfrida  looked  round 
her  once  more  to  see  whether  or  not  she  was 
dreaming,  and  whether  there  was  one  human  be- 
ing to  whom  she  could  appeal.  Her  mother  sat 
praying  and  weeping  in  a  corner.  Torfrida  looked 
at  her  with  one  glance  of  scorn,  which  she  con- 
fessed and  repented,  with  bitter  tears,  many  a  year 
after,  in  a  foreign  land ;  and  then  turned  to  bay 
with  the  spirit  of  her  old  Paladin  ancestor,  who 
choked  the  Emir  at  Montmajour. 

Married  to  a  beggar  !  it  was  a  strange  accident ; 
and  an  ugly  one ;  and  a  great  cruelty  and  wrong. 
But  it  was  not  impossible,  hardly  improbable,  in 
days  when  the  caprice  of  the  strong  created  acci- 
dents, and  when  cruelty  and  wrong  went  for  noth- 
ing, even  with  very  kindly  honest  folk.  So  Torfrida 
faced  the  danger,  as  she  would  have  faced  that  of  a 
kicking  horse  or  a  flooded  ford ;  and  like  the  nut- 
brown  bride, 

"  She  pulled  out  a  little  penknife, 
That  was  both  keen  and  sharp," 

and  considered  that  the  beggarman  could  wear  no 
armor,  and  that  she  wore  none  either.  For  if  she 
succeeded  in  slaying  that  beggarman,  she  might 
need  to  slay  herself  after,  to  avoid  being  —  accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  those  days  —  burned  alive. 


230  Hereward  the  Wake 

So  when  the  arras  was  drawn  back,  and  that  beg- 
garman  came  into  the  room,  instead  of  shrieking, 
fainting,  hiding,  or  turning,  she  made  three  steps 
straight  toward  him,  looking  him  in  the  face  like  a 
wildcat  at  bay.  Then  she  threw  up  her  arms ;  and 
fell  upon  his  neck. 

It  was  Hereward  himself.  Filthy,  ragged :  but 
Hereward. 

His  shirt  was  brown  with  gore,  and  torn  with 
wounds ;  and  through  its  rents  showed  more  than 
one  hardly  healed  scar.  His  hair  and  beard  were 
all  in  elf-locks ;  and  one  heavy  cut  across  the  head 
had  shorn  not  only  hair,  but  brain-pan,  very  close. 

But  Hereward  it  was ;  and  regardless  of  all  be- 
holders, she  lay  upon  his  neck,  and  never  stirred 
nor  spoke. 

"  I  call  you  to  witness,  ladies,"  cried  the  queen- 
countess,  "  that  I  am  guiltless.  She  has  given  her- 
self to  this  beggarman  of  her  own  free  will.  What 
say  you  ?  "  And  she  turned  to  Torfrida's  mother. 

Torfrida's  mother  only  prayed  and  whimpered. 

"  Countesses  and  ladies,"  said  the  queen-coun- 
tess, "  there  will  be  two  weddings  to-morrow.  The 
first  will  be  that  of  my  son  Robert  and  my  pretty 
Lady  Gertrude  here.  The  second  will  be  that 
of  my  pretty  Torfrida  and  Hereward." 

"  And  the  second  bride,"  said  the  Countess  Ger- 
trude, rising  and  taking  Torfrida  in  her  arms,  "  will 
be  ten  times  prettier  than  the  first.  There,  sir,  I 
have  done  all  you  asked  of  me.  Now  go  and  wash 
yourself." 

"  Hereward,"  said  Torfrida,  a  week  after,  "  and  did 
you  really  never  change  your  shirt  all  that  time  ?  " 
"  Never.     I  kept  my  promise." 


How  Hereward  Rode  into  Bruges    231 

"  But  it  must  have  been  very  nasty." 

"  Well,  I  bathed  now  and  then." 

"  But  it  must  have  been  very  cold." 

"  I  am  warm  enough  now." 

"But  did  you  never  comb  your  hair,  neither?" 

"  Well,  I  won't  say  that.  Travellers  find  strange 
bedfellows.  But  I  had  half  a  mind  never  to  do  it 
at  all,  just  to  spite  you." 

"  And  what  matter  would  it  have  been  to  me?" 

"  Oh !  none.  It  is  only  a  Danish  fashion  we 
have  of  keeping  clean." 

"  Clean !  You  were  dirty  enough  when  you 
came  home.  How  silly  you  were  !  If  you  had 
sent  me  but  one  word  !  " 

"You  would  have  fancied  me  beaten,  and 
scolded  me  all  over  again.  I  know  your  ways 
now,  Torfrida." 


CHAPTER  XV 

HOW  EARL  TOSTI  GODWINSSON  CAME  TO 
ST.  OMER 

THE  winter  passed  in  sweet  madness ;  and  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  Torfrida  regretted 
the  lengthening  of  the  days,  and  the  flowering  of 
the  primroses,  and  the  return  of  the  now  needless 
wryneck;  for  they  warned  her  that  Hereward 
must  forth  to  the  wars  in  Scaldmariland,  which 
had  broken  out  again,  as  was  to  be  expected,  as 
soon  as  Count  Robert  and  his  bride  had  turned 
their  backs. 

And  Hereward,  likewise,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  was  loath  to  go  to  war.  He  was,  doubtless, 
rich  enough  in  this  world's  goods.  Torfrida  her- 
self was  rich,  and  seems  to  have  had  the  disposal 
of  her  own  property ;  for  her  mother  is  not  men- 
tioned in  connection  therewith.  Hereward  seems 
to  have  dwelt  in  her  house  at  St.  Omer  as  long  as  he 
remained  in  Flanders.  He  had  probably  amassed 
some  treasure  of  his  own  by  the  simple,  but  then 
most  aristocratic  method  of  plunder.  He  had,  too, 
probably,  grants  of  land  in  Holland  from  the  Prison, 
the  rents  whereof  were  not  paid  as  regularly  as  might 
be.  Moreover,  as  "  Magister  Militum"  "  Master  of 
the  Knights,"  he  had,  it  is  likely,  pay  as  well  as 
honor.  And  he  approved  himself  worthy  of  his 
good  fortune.  He  kept  forty  gallant  housecarles  in 
his  hall  all  the  winter,  and  Torfrida  and  her  lasses 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  Omer  233 

made  and  mended  their  clothes.  He  gave  large 
gifts  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Bertin ;  and  had  masses 
sung  for  the  souls  of  all  whom  he  had  slain,  ac- 
cording to  a  rough  list  which  he  furnished  —  bid- 
ding the  monks  not  to  be  chary  of  two  or  three 
masses  extra  at  times,  as  his  memory  was  short, 
and  he  might  have  sent  more  souls  to  purgatory 
than  he  had  recollected.  He  gave  great  alms  at 
his  door  to  all  the  poor.  He  befriended,  espe- 
cially, all  shipwrecked  and  needy  mariners,  feeding 
and  clothing  them,  and  begging  their  freedom  as 
a  gift  from  Baldwin.  He  feasted  the  knights  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  since  his  Baresark  cam- 
paign, had  all  vowed  him  the  most  gallant  of 
warriors,  and  since  his  accession  of  wealth,  the 
most  courteous  of  gentlemen ;  and  all  went  mer- 
rily, as  it  is  written,  "  As  long  as  thou  doest  well 
unto  thyself,  men  will  speak  well  of  thee." 

So  he  would  have  fain  stayed  at  home  at  St. 
Omer:  but  he  was  Robert's  man,  and  his  good 
friend  likewise ;  and  to  the  wars  he  must  go  forth 
once  more ;  and  for  eight  or  nine  weary  months 
Torfrida  was  alone ;  but  very  happy,  for  a  certain 
reason  of  her  own. 

At  last  the  short  November  days  came  round ; 
and  a  joyful  woman  was  fair  Torfrida,  when  Martin 
Lightfoot  ran  into  the  hall,  and  throwing  himself 
down  on  the  rushes  like  a  dog,  announced  that 
Hereward  and  his  men  would  be  home  before 
noon,  and  then  fell  fast  asleep. 

There  was  bustling  to  and  fro  of  her  and  her 
maids ;  decking  of  the  hall  in  the  best  hangings ; 
strewing  of  fresh  rushes,  to  the  dislodgement  of 
Martin ;  setting  out  of  boards  and  trestles,  and 
stoops  and  mugs  thereon;  cooking  of  victuals, 

Vol.  12— K 


234  Hereward  the  Wake 

broaching  of  casks;  and,  above  all,  for  Hereward's 
self,  heating  of  much  water,  and  setting  out,  in  the 
inner  chamber,  of  the  great  bath-tub  and  bath-sheet, 
which  was  the  special  delight  of  a  hero  fresh  from  war. 

And  by  mid-day  the  streets  of  St.  Omer  rang 
with  clank,  and  tramp,  and  trumpet-blare,  and  in 
marched  Hereward  and  all  his  men,  and  swung 
round  through  the  gateway  into  the  court,  where 
Torfrida  stood  to  welcome  them,  as  fair  as  day,  a 
silver  stirrup-cup  in  her  hand.  And  while  the 
men  were  taking  off  their  harness  and  dressing 
their  horses,  she  and  Hereward  went  in  together, 
and  either  took  such  joy  of  the  other  that  a  year's 
parting  was  forgot  in  a  minute's  meeting. 

"  Now ! "  cried  she,  in  a  tone  half  of  triumph, 
half  of  tenderness ;  "  look  there  !  " 

"  A  cradle  ?     And  a  baby  ?  " 

"  Your  baby." 

"Is  it  a  boy?"  asked  Hereward,  who  saw  in 
his  mind's  eye  a  thing  which  would  grow  and 
broaden  at  his  knee  year  by  year,  and  learn  from 
him  to  ride,  to  shoot,  to  fight.  "  Happy  for  him 
if  he  does  not  learn  worse  from  me,"  thought  Here- 
ward, with  a  sudden  movement  of  humility  and 
contrition,  which  was  surely  marked  in  heaven; 
for  Torfrida  marked  it  on  earth. 

But  she  mistook  its  meaning. 

"  Do  not  be  vexed.     It  is  a  girl." 

"  Never  mind."  As  if  it  was  a  calamity  over 
which  he  was  bound  to  comfort  the  mother.  "  If 
she  is  half  as  beautiful  as  you  look  at  this  moment, 
what  splintering  of  lances  there  will  be  about  her ! 
How  jolly,  to  see  the  lads  hewing  at  each  other, 
while  our  daughter  sits  in  the  pavilion,  as  Queer 
of  Love  1" 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  Omer  235 

Torfrida  laughed.  "You  think  of  nothing  but 
fighting,  bear  of  the  North  Seas." 

"  Every  one  to  his  trade.  Well,  yes,  I  am  glad 
that  it  is  a  girl." 

"  I  thought  you  seemed  vexed.  Why  did  you 
cross  yourself  ?  " 

"Because  I  thought  to  myself,  how  unfit  I  was 
to  bring  up  a  boy  to  be  such  a  knight  as  —  as  you 
would  have  him ;  —  how  likely  I  was,  ere  all  was 
over,  to  make  him  as  great  a  ruffian  as  myself." 

"  Hereward  !  Hereward  !  "  and  she  threw  her 
arms  round  his  neck  for  the  tenth  time.  "  Blessed 
be  you  for  those  words !  Those  are  the  fears 
which  never  come  true,  for  they  bring  down  from 
heaven  the  grace  of  God,  to  guard  the  humble  and 
contrite  heart  from  that  which  it  fears." 

"  Ah,  Torfrida,  I  wish  I  were  as  good  as  you  !  " 

"  Now  —  my  joy  and  my  life,  my  hero  and  my 
scald  —  I  have  great  news  for  you,  as  well  as  a 
little  baby.  News  from  England." 

"  You,  and  a  baby  over  and  above,  are  worth  all 
England  to  me." 

"But  listen.     Edward  the  king  is  dead." 

"  Then  there  is  one  fool  less  on  earth ;  and  one 
saint  more,  I  suppose,  in  heaven." 

"  And  Harold  Godwinsson  is  king  in  his  stead. 
And  he  has  married  your  niece  Aldytha,  and 
sworn  friendship  with  her  brothers." 

"  I  expected  no  less.  Well,  every  dog  has  his 
day." 

"And  his  will  be  a  short  one.  William  of 
Normandy  has  sworn  to  drive  him  out." 

"Then  he  will  do  it.  And  so  the  poor  little 
Swan-neck  is  packed  into  a  convent,  that  the 
houses  of  Godwin  and  Leofric  may  rush  into  each 


23  6  Hereward   the   Wake 

other's  arms,  and  perish  together  !  Fools,  fools, 
fools  !  I  will  hear  no  more  of  such  a  mad  world. 
My  queen,  tell  me  about  your  sweet  self.  What 
is  all  this  to  me  ?  Am  I  not  a  wolf's  head,  and  a 
landless  man  !" 

"Oh,  my  king,  have  not  the  stars  told  me  that 
you  will  be  an  earl  and  a  ruler  of  men,  when  all 
your  foes  are  wolves'  heads  as  you  are  now  ? 
And  the  weird  is  coming  true  already.  Tosti 
Godwinsson  is  in  the  town  at  this  moment,  an 
outlaw  and  a  wolf's  head  himself  !" 

Hereward  laughed  a  great  laugh. 

"Aha  !  Every  man  to  his  right  place  at  last. 
Tell  me  about  that,  for  it  will  amuse  me.  I  have 
heard  naught  of  him  since  he  sent  the  king  his 
Hereford  thralls'  arms  and  legs  in  the  pickle- 
barrels;  to  show  him,  he  said,  that  there  was 
plenty  of  cold  meat  on  his  royal  demesnes." 

"You  have  not  heard,  then,  how  he  murdered, 
in  his  own  chamber  at  York,  Gamel  Ormsson  and 
Ulf  Dolfinsson?" 

"That  poor  little  lad?  Well,  a  gracious  youth 
was  Tosti,  ever  since  he  went  to  kill  his  brother 
Harold  with  teeth  and  claws,  like  a  wolf;  and  as 
he  grows  in  years,  he  grows  in  grace.  But  what 
said  Ulf's  father  and  the  Gospatrics?" 

"They  were  I  know  not  where.  But  old 
Gospatric  came  down  to  Westminster,  to  demand 
law  for  his  grandnephew's  blood." 

"A  silly  thing  of  the  old  Thane,  to  walk  into 
the  wolf's  den.'* 

"And  so  he  found.  He  was  stabbed  there, 
three  days  after  Christmastide,  and  men  say  that 
Queen  Edith  did  it,  for  love  of  Tosti,  her  brother. 
Then  Dolphin  and  the  Gospatrics  took  to  the  sea, 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  Omer  237 

and  away  to  Scotland;  and  so  Tosti  rid  himself 
of  all  the  good  blood  in  the  North,  except  young 
Waltheof  Siwardsson,  whose  turn,  I  fear,  will  come 
next." 

"  How  comes  he  here,  then?  " 

"  The  northern  men  rose  at  that,  killed  his  ser- 
vant at  York ;  took  all  his  treasures ;  and  marched 
down  to  Northampton,  plundering  and  burning. 
They  would  have  marched  on  London  town,  if 
Harold  had  not  met  them  there  from  the  king. 
There  they  cried  out  against  Tosti,  and  all  his  taxes, 
and  his  murders,  and  his  changing  Canute's  laws, 
and  would  have  your  nephew  Morcar  for  their  earl. 
A  tyrant  they  would  not  endure.  Free  they  were 
born  and  bred,  they  said,  and  free  they  would  live 
and  die.  Harold  must  needs  do  justice,  even  on 
his  own  brother." 

"  Especially  when  he  knows  that  that  brother  is 
his  worst  foe." 

"  Harold  is  a  better  man  than  you  take  him  for, 
my  Hereward.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  Morcar  is 
earl;  and  Tosti  outlawed,  and  here  in  St.  Omer, 
with  wife  and  child." 

"  My  nephew  Earl  of  Northumbria !  As  I  might 
have  been,  if  I  had  been  a  wiser  man." 

"  If  you  had,  you  would  never  have  found  me." 

"  True,  my  queen  !  They  say  heaven  tempers 
the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb ;  but  it  tempers  it  too, 
sometimes,  to  the  hobbled  ass ;  and  so  it  has  done 
by  me.  And  so  the  rogues  have  fallen  out,  and 
honest  men  may  come  by  their  own.  For  as  the 
northern  men  have  done  by  one  brother,  so  will 
the  eastern  men  do  by  the  other.  Let  Harold  see 
how  many  of  those  fat  Lincolnshire  manors,  which 
he  has  seized  into  his  own  hands,  he  holds  by  this 


238  Hereward  the  Wake 

day  twelve  months.  But  what  is  all  this  to  me, 
my  queen,  while  you  and  I  can  kiss,  and  laugh  the 
world  to  scorn  ?  " 

"  This  to  you,  beloved,  that,  great  as  you  are, 
Torfrida  must  have  you  greater  still;  and  out  of 
all  this  coil  and  confusion  you  may  win  something, 
if  you  be  wise." 

"  Sweet  lips,  be  still ;  and  let  us  play  instead  of 
plotting." 

"  And  this,  too  —  you  shall  not  stop  my  mouth 
—  that  Harold  Godwinsson  has  sent  a  letter  to 
you." 

"  Harold  Godwinsson  is  my  very  good  lord," 
sneered  Hereward. 

"  And  this  it  said,  with  such  praises  and  cour- 
tesies concerning  you,  as  made  my  wife's  heart 
beat  high  with  pride  — '  If  Hereward  Leofricsson 
will  come  home  to  England,  he  shall  have  his 
rights  in  law  again,  and  his  manors  in  Lincolnshire, 
and  a  thaneship  in  East  Anglia,  and  manors  for 
his  men-at-arms ;  and  if  that  be  not  enough,  he 
shall  have  an  earldom,  as  soon  as  there  is  one  to 
give.'  " 

"And  what  says  to  that  Torfrida,  Hereward's 
queen?" 

"  You  will  not  be  angry  if  I  answered  the  letter 
for  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  answered  it  in  one  way  —  no.  If 
another  —  yes." 

Torfrida  trembled.  Then  she  looked  Hereward 
full  in  the  face  with  her  keen  clear  eyes. 

"  Now  shall  I  see  whether  I  have  given  myself  to 
Hereward  in  vain,  body  and  soul,  or  whether  I 
have  trained  him  tc  be  my  trtw*  and  perfect 
knight." 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  ^Omer  239 

"  You  answered,  then,"  said  Hereward,  "  thus  —  " 

"  Say  on,"  said  she,  turning  her  face  away  again. 

"  Hereward  Leofricsson  tells  Harold  Godwinsson 
that  he  is  his  equal,  and  not  his  man ;  and  that  he 
will  never  put  his  hands  between  the  hands  of  a 
son  of  Godwin.  An  Etheling  born,  a  king  of  the 
house  of  Cerdic,  outlawed  him  from  his  right,  and 
none  but  an  Etheling  born  shall  give  him  his  right 
again." 

"  I  said  it,  I  said  it.  Those  were  my  very 
words  !  "  and  Torfrida  burst  into  tears,  while  Here- 
ward kissed  her,  almost  fawned  upon  her,  calling 
her  his  queen,  his  saga-wife,  his  guardian  angel. 

"  I  was  sorely  tempted,"  sobbed  she,  "  sorely. 
To  see  you  rich  and  proud  upon  your  own  lands, 
an  earl,  maybe  —  maybe,  I  thought  at  whiles,  a 
king.  But  it  could  not  be.  It  did  not  stand  with 
honor,  my  hero  —  not  with  honor." 

"  Not  with  honor.  Get  me  gay  garments  out  of 
the  chest,  and  let  us  go  in  royally,  and  royally  feast 
my  jolly  riders." 

"  Stay  awhile,"  said  she,  kissing  his  head  as  she 
combed  and  curled  his  long  golden  locks,  and  her 
own  raven  ones,  hardly  more  beautiful,  fell  over 
them  and  mingled  with  them.  "  Stay  awhile,  my 
pride.  There  is  another  spell  in  the  wind,  stirred 
up  by  devil  or  witch-wife,  and  it  comes  from  Tosti 
Godwinsson." 

"Tosti,  the  cold-meat  butcher?  What  has  he 
to  say  to  me?" 

"  This  — '  If  Hereward  will  come  with  me  to 
William  of  Normandy,  and  help  us  against  Harold 
the  perjured,  then  will  William  do  for  him  all  that 
Harold  would  have  done,  and  more  beside.'  " 

"  And  what  answered  Torfrida  ?  "    ' 


240  *Hereward  the  Wake 

"  It  was  not  so  said  to  me  that  I  could  answer. 
I  had  it  by  a  side  wind,  through  the  Countess 
Judith."  l 

"  And  she  had  it  from  her  sister  Matilda." 

"And  she,  of  course,  from  Duke  William 
himself." 

"And  what  would  you  have  answered,  if  you 
had  answered,  pretty  one  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  know  not.  I  cannot  be  always  queen. 
You  must  be  king  sometimes." 

Torfrida  did  not  say  that  this  latter  offer  had 
been  a  much  sorer  temptation  than  the  former. 

"  And  has  not  the  base-born  Frenchman  enough 
knights  of  his  own,  that  he  needs  the  help  of  an 
outlaw  like  me  ?  " 

"  He  asks  for  help  from  all  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  He  has  sent  that  Lanfranc  to  the  Pope; 
and  there  is  talk  of  a  sacred  banner,  and  a  crusade 
against  England." 

"The  monks  are  with  him,  then?"  said  Here- 
ward.  "  That  is  one  more  count  in  their  score. 
But  I  am  no  monk.  I  have  shorn  many  a  crown, 
but  I  have  kept  my  own  hair  as  yet,  you  see." 

"  I  do  see,"  said  she,  playing  with  his  locks. 
"But — but  he  wants  you.  He  has  sent  for 
Angevins,  Poitevins,  Bretons,  Flemings  —  promis- 
ing lands,  rank,  money,  what  not.  Tosti  is  re- 
cruiting for  him  here  in  Flanders  now.  He  will 
soon  be  off  to  the  Orkneys,  I  suspect,  or  to  Sweyn 
in  Denmark,  after  Vikings." 

"  Here?     Has  Baldwin  promised  him  men?  " 

"What  could  the  good  old  man  do?  He  could 
not  refuse  his  own  son-in-law.  This,  at  least,  I 

1  Tosti's  wife,  Earl  Baldwin's  daughter,  sister  of  Matilda, 
William  the  Conqueror's  wife. 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  Omer  241 

know,  that  a  messenger  has  gone  off  to  Scotland, 
to  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  to  bring  or  send  any  bold 
Flemings  who  may  prefer  fat  England  to  lean 
Scotland." 

"Lands,  rank,  money,  eh?  So  he  intends  that 
the  war  should  pay  itself —  out  of  English  purses. 
What  answer  would  you  have  me  make  to  that, 
wife  mine?" 

"The  duke  is  a  terrible  man.  What  if  he 
conquers?  And  conquer  he  will." 

"  Is  that  written  in  your  stars  ?  " 

"  It  is,  I  fear.  And  if  he  have  the  Pope's  bless- 
ing, and  the  Pope's  banner Dare  we  resist 

the  Holy  Father?" 

"Holy  stepfather,  you  mean;  for  a  stepfather 
he  seems  to  prove  to  merry  England.  But  do  you 
really  believe  that  an  old  man  down  in  Italy  can 
make  a  bit  of  rag  conquer  by  saying  a  few  prayers 
at  it?  If  I  am  to  believe  in  a  magic  flag,  give 
me  Harold  Hardraade's  Landcyda,  at  least,  with 
Harold  and  his  Norsemen  behind  it" 

"  William's  French  are  as  good  as  those  Norse- 
men, man  for  man ;  and  horsed  withal,  Hereward." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  he,  half  testily,  with  a  curse 
on  the  tanner's  grandson  and  his  French  popinjays, 
"  and  our  Englishmen  are  as  good  as  any  two 
Norsemen,  as  the  Norse  themselves  say."  He 
could  not  divine,  and  Torfrida  hardly  liked  to 
explain  to  him,  the  glamour  which  the  Duke  of 
Normandy  had  cast  over  her,  as  the  representative 
of  chivalry,  learning,  civilization,  a  new  and  nobler 
life  for  men  than  the  world  had  yet  seen ;  one 
which  seemed  to  connect  the  young  races  of 
Europe  with  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients  and  the 
magic  .rrlories  of  old  Imperial  Rome. 


242  Hereward  the  Wake 

"You  are  not  fair  to  that  man,"  said  she,  after 
a  while.  "  Hereward,  Hereward,  have  I  not  told 
you  how,  though  body  be  strong,  mind  is  stronger? 
That  is  what  that  man  knows ;  and  therefore  he 
has  prospered.  Therefore  his  realms  are  full  of 
wise  scholars,  and  thriving  schools,  and  fair  min- 
sters, and  his  men  are  sober,  and  wise,  and  learned 
like  clerks " 

"  And  false  like  clerks,  as  he  is  himself.  School- 
craft  and  honesty  never  went  yet  together,  Tor- 
frida " 

"Not  in  me?" 

"  You  are  not  a  clerk :  you  are  a  woman,  and 
more  than  woman;  you  are  an  elf,  a  goddess; 
there  is  none  like  you.  But  hearken  to  me.  This 
man  is  false.  All  the  world  knows  it." 

"  He  promises,  they  say,  to  govern  England 
justly  as  King  Edward's  heir,  according  to  the  old 
laws  and  liberties  of  the  realm." 

"  Of  course.  If  he  does  not  come  as  the  old 
monk's  heir,  how  does  he  come  at  all?  If  he  does 
not  promise  our  —  their,  I  mean,  for  I  am  no 
Englishman  —  laws  and  liberties,  who  will  join 
him?  But  his  riders  and  hirelings  will  not  fight 
for  nothing.  They  must  be  paid  with  English 
land,  and  English  land  they  will  have,  for  they  will 
be  his  men,  whoever  else  are  not.  They  will  be 
his  darlings,  his  housecarles,  his  hawks  to  sit  on 
his  fist  and  fly  at  his  game ;  and  English  bones 
will  be  picked  clean  to  feed  them.  And  you  would 
have  me  help  to  do  that,  Torfrida?  Is  that  the 
honor  of  which  you  spoke  so  boldly  to  Harold 
Godwinsson?" 

Torfrida  was  silent.  To  have  brought  Hereward 
under  the  influence  of  William  was  an  old  dream 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  Omer  243 

of  hers.  And  yet  she  was  proud  at  the  dream 
being  broken  thus.  And  so  she  said  — 

"You  are  right!  It  is  better  for  you  —  it  is 
better  than  to  be  William's  darling,  and  the  great- 
est earl  in  his  court  —  to  feel  that  you  are  still  an 
Englishman.  Promise  me  but  one  thing,  that  you 
will  make  no  fierce  or  desperate  answer  to  the 
duke." 

"  And  why  not  answer  the  tanner  as  he  de- 
serves?" 

"  Because  my  art,  and  my  heart  too,  tells  me  that 
your  fortunes  and  his  are  linked  together.  I  have 
studied  my  tables,  but  they  would  not  answer. 
Then  I  cast  lots  in  Virgilius " 

"And  what  found  you  there?"  asked  he, 
anxiously. 

"  I  opened  at  the  lines  — 

41 4  Pacem  me  exanirnis  et  Martis  sorte  peremptis, 
Gratis  ?    Equidem  et  vivis  concedere  vellem.'  " 

"And  what  means  that?  " 

"That  you  may  have  to  pray  him  to  pity  the 
slain ;  and  have  for  answer,  that  their  lands  may 
be  yours  if  you  will  but  make  peace  with  him.  At 
least,  do  not  break  hopelessly  with  that  man. 
Above  all,  never  use  that  word  concerning  him 
which  you  used  just  now;  the  word  which  he  never 
forgives.  Remember  what  he  did  to  them  of 
Alengon,  when  they  hung  raw  hides  over  the  wall, 
and  cried,  '  Plenty  of  work  for  the  tanner  ! ' ' 

"  Let  him  pick  out  the  prisoners'  eyes,  and  chop 
off  their  hands,  and  shoot  them  into  the  town  from 
mangonels.  I  know  him :  but  he  must  go  far  and 
thrive  well  ere  I  give  him  a  chance  of  doing  that 
by  the  Wake." 

"  Hereward,   Hereward,  my  own !     Boast   not, 


244  Hereward  the  Wake 

but  fear  God.  Who  knows,  in  such  a  world  as 
this,  to  what  end  we  may  come?  Night  after 
night  I  am  haunted  with  spectres,  eyeless,  hand- 
less " 

"  This  is  cold  comfort  for  a  man  just  out  of  hard 
fighting  in  the  ague-fens  !  " 

She  threw  her  arms  round  him,  and  held  him  as 
if  she  would  never  let  him  go. 

"  When  you  die,  I  die.  And  you  will  not  die : 
you  will  be  great  and  glorious,  and  your  name  will 
be  sung  by  scald  and  minstrel  through  many  a 
land,  far  and  wide.  Only,  be  not  rash.  Be  not 
high-minded.  Promise  me  to  answer  this  man 
wisely.  The  more  crafty  he  is,  the  more  crafty 
must  you  be  likewise." 

"  Let  us  tell  this  mighty  hero  then,"  said  Here- 
ward,  trying  to  laugh  away  her  fears  —  and  per- 
haps his  own,  "  that  while  he  has  the  Holy  Father 
on  his  side,  he  can  need  no  help  from  a  poor  sin- 
ful worm  like  me." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward  !  " 

"Why,  is  there  aught  about  hides  in  that?" 

"  I  want  —  I  want  an  answer  which  may  not  cut 
off  all  hope  in  case  of  the  worst." 

"  Then  let  us  say  boldly,  '  On  the  day  that  Wil- 
liam is  King  of  all  England,  Hereward  will  come 
and  put  his  hands  between  his,  and  be  his  man.'  " 

That  message  was  sent  to  William  at  Rouen. 
He  laughed  — 

"  It  is  a  fair  challenge  from  a  valiant  man.  The 
day  shall  come  when  I  will  claim  it." 

Tosti  and  Hereward  passed  that  winter  in  St. 
Omer,  living  in  the  same  street,  passing  each  other 
day  by  day,  and  never  spoke  a  word  one  to  the 
other. 


How  Godwinsson  Came  to  St.  Omer  245 

Robert  the  Prison  heard  of  it,  and  tried  to  per- 
suade Hereward. 

"  Let  him  purge  himself  of  the  murder  of  Ulf 
the  boy,  son  of  my  friend  Dolfin ;  and  after  that  of 
Gamel,  son  of  Orm ;  and  after  that  again  of  Gos- 
patric,  my  father's  friend,  whom  his  sister  slew  for 
his  sake ;  and  then  an  honest  man  may  talk  with 
him.  Were  he  not  my  good  lord's  brother-in-law, 
as  he  is,  more 's  the  pity,  I  would  challenge  him  to 
fight  d  routrance,  with  any  weapons  he  might 
choose." 

"  Heaven  protect  him  in  that  case,"  quoth 
Robert  the  Prison. 

"  As  it  is,  I  will  keep  the  peace.  And  I  will  see 
that  my  men  keep  the  peace,  though  there  are 
Scarborough  and  Bamborough  lads  among  them, 
who  long  to  cut  his  throat  upon  the  streets.  But 
more  I  will  not  do." 

So  Tosti  sulked  through  the  winter  at  St.  Omer. 
Suddenly  he  turned  traitor  (no  man  knows  why) 
to  his  good  brother-in-law  and  new  ally,  William 
of  Normandy;  and  went  off  to  get  help  from 
Sweyn  of  Denmark,  and,  failing  that,  from  Harold 
Hardraade  of  Norway.  But  how  he  sped  there 
must  be  read  in  the  words  of  a  cunninger  saga-man 
than  this  chronicler,  even  in  those  of  the  Icelandic 
Homer,  Snorro  Sturleson. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

HOW  HEREWARD  WAS  ASKED  TO  SLAY  AN  OLD 
COMRADE 

IN  those  days  Hereward  went  into  Bruges,  to 
Marquis  Baldwin,  about  his   business.     And 
as  he  walked  in  Bruges  Street,  he  met  an  old  friend, 
Gilbert  of  Ghent. 

He  had  grown  somewhat  stouter,  and  somewhat 
grayer,  in  the  last  ten  years :  but  he  was  as  hearty 
as  ever,  and  as  honest,  according  to  his  own  notions 
of  honesty. 

He  shook  Hereward  by  both  hands,  clapped  him 
on  the  back,  swore,  with  many  oaths,  that  he  had 
heard  of  his  fame  in  all  lands,  that  he  always  said 
that  he  would  turn  out  a  champion,  and  a  gallant 
knight,  and  had  said  it  long  before  he  killed  the 
bear.  As  for  killing  it,  it  was  no  more  than  he 
expected,  and  nothing  to  what  Hereward  had  done 
since,  and  would  do  yet. 

Wherefrom  Hereward  opined  that  Gilbert  had 
need  of  him. 

They  chatted  on:  Hereward  asking  after  old 
friends,  and  sometimes  after  old  foes,  whom  he  had 
long  since  forgiven ;  for  though  he  always  avenged 
an  injury,  he  never  bore  malice  for  one :  a  distinc- 
tion less  common  now  than  then,  when  a  man's 
honor,  as  well  as  his  safety,  depended  on  his  striking 
again,  when  he  was  struck. 


Asked  to  Slay  an  Old  Comrade     247 

"And  how  is  little  Alftruda?  —  Big  she  must  be 
now?  "  asked  he  at  last. 

"  The  fiend  fly  away  with  her  —  or  rather,  would 
that  he  had  flown  away  with  her,  before  ever  I  saw 
the  troublesome  jade.  Big?  She  is  grown  into  the 
most  beautiful  lass  that  ever  was  seen  —  which  is 
what  a  young  fellow,  like  you,  cares  for ;  and  more 
trouble  to  me  than  all  my  money,  which  is  what 
an  old  fellow,  like  me,  cares  for.  It  is  partly  about 
her  that  I  am  over  here  now.  Fool  that  I  was, 
ever  to  let  a  princess  into  my  house  !  "  and  Gilbert 
swore  a  great  deal. 

"  How  was  she  a  princess?  I  forget,"  said  Here- 
ward,  who  cared  nothing  about  the  matter.  "  And 
how  came  she  into  your  house?  I  never  could 
understand  that,  any  more  than  how  the  bear  came 
there." 

"  Ah !  As  to  the  bear,  I  have  my  secrets,  which 
I  tell  no  one.  He  is  dead  and  buried,  thanks  to 
you." 

"  And  I  sleep  on  his  skin  every  night." 

"  You  do,  my  little  champion  ?  Well  —  warm  is 
the  bed  that  is  well  earned.  But  as  for  her;  — see 
here,  and  I  '11  tell  you.  She  was  Gospatric's  ward 
and  kinswoman  —  how,  I  do  not  rightly  know.  But 
this  I  know,  that  she  comes  from  Uchtred,  the  earl 
whom  Canute  slew,  and  that  she  is  heir  to  great 
estates  in  Northumberland." 

"Gospatric,  that  fought  at  Dunsinane?" 

"Yes;  not  the  old  Thane,  his  uncle,  whom  Tosti 
has  murdered :  but  Gospatric,  King  Malcolm's 
cousin,  Dolfin's  father.  Well,  she  was  his  ward. 
He  gave  me  her  to  keep,  for  he  wanted  her  out  of 
harm's  way  —  the  lass  having  a  bonny  dower,  lands, 
and  money  —  till  he  could  marry  her  up  to  one  of 


248  Hereward  the  Wake 

his  sons.  I  took  her:  but  of  course  I  was  not 
going  to  do  other  men's  work  for  naught;  so  I 
would  have  married  her  up  to  my  poor  boy,  if  he 
had  but  lived.  But  he  would  not  live,  as  you 
know.  Then  I  would  have  married  her  to  you, 
and  made  you  my  heir,  I  tell  you  honestly,  if  you 
had  not  flown  off,  like  a  hot-headed  young  spring- 
aid  as  you  were  then." 

"  You  were  very  kind.  But  how  is  she  a  prin- 
cess?" 

"  Princess  ?  Twice  over.  Her  father  was  of  high 
blood  among  the  Saxons;  and  if  not,  are  not  all 
the  Gospatrics  Ethelings?  Their  grandmother, 
Uchtred's  wife,  was  Ethelred  Evil-Counsel's  daugh- 
ter; and  I  have  heard  that  this  girl's  grandfather 
was  his  son — but  died  young  —  or  was  killed. 
Who  cares?" 

"  Not  I,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  Well  —  Gospatric  wants  to  marry  her  to  Dolfin, 
his  eldest  son." 

"  Why,  Dolfin  had  a  wife  when  I  was  at  Dun- 
sinane." 

"  But  she  is  dead  since,  and  young  Ulf,  her  son, 
was  murdered  by  Tosti  last  winter." 

"  I  know." 

"Whereon  Gospatric  sends  to  me  for  the  girl 
and  her  dowry.  What  was  I  to  do?  Give  her 
up?  Little  it  is,  lad,  that  I  ever  gave  up,  after  I 
had  it  once  in  my  grip,  or  I  should  be  a  poorer 
man  than  I  am  now.  Have  and  hold,  is  my  rule. 
What  should  I  do  ?  What  I  did.  I  was  coming 
hither  on  business  of  my  own,  so  I  put  her  on 
board  ship,  and  half  her  dower  —  where  the  other 
half  is,  I  know;  and  man  must  draw  me  with 
wild  horses,  before  he  finds  out — and  came  here 


Asked  to  Slay  an  Old  Comrade     249 

to  my  kinsman,  Baldwin,  to  see  if  he  had  any 
proper  young  fellow  to  whom  we  might  marry 
the  lass,  and  so  go  shares  in  her  money  and 
the  family  connection.  Could  a  man  do  more 
wisely?  " 

"Impossible,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"But  see  how  a  wise  man  is  lost  by  fortune. 
When  I  come  here,  whom  should  I  find  but  Dolfin 
himself?  The  rogue  had  scent  of  my  plan,  all  the 
way  from  Dolfinston  there,  by  Peebles.  He  hunts 
me  out,  the  hungry  Scotch  wolf:  rides  for  Leith, 
takes  ship,  and  is  here  to  meet  me,  having  accused 
me  before  Baldwin  as  a  robber  and  a  ravisher,  and 
offered  to  prove  his  right  to  the  jade  on  my  body 
in  single  combat." 

"  The  villain  !  "  quoth  Hereward.  "  There  is  no 
modesty  left  on  earth,  nor  prudence  either.  To 
come  here,  where  he  might  have  stumbled  on 
Tosti,  who  murdered  his  son,  and  who  would  surely 
do  the  like  by  him  himself.  Lucky  for  him  that 
Tosti  is  off  to  Norway  on  his  own  errand." 

"  Modesty  and  prudence !  None  nowadays, 
young  sire;  nor  justice  either,  I  think;  for  when 
Baldwin  hears  us  both  —  and  I  told  my  story  as 
cannily  as  I  could  —  he  tells  me  that  he  is  very 
sorry  for  an  old  vassal  and  kinsman,  and  so  forth, 
—  but  I  must  either  disgorge  or  fight." 

"  Then  fight,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  Per  se  ant  per  campionem  —  that 's  the  old  law, 
you  know." 

"Not  a  doubt  of  it." 

"  Look  you,  Hereward.  I  am  no  coward,  nor  a 
clumsy  man  of  my  hands." 

"  He  is  either  fool  or  liar  who  says  so." 

"  But  see.     I  find  it  hard  work  to  hold  my  own 


250  Hereward  the  Wake 

in  Scotland  now.  Folks  don't  like  me,  or  trust 
me ;  I  can't  say  why." 

"  How  unreasonable  !  "  quoth  Hereward. 

"  And  if  I  kill  this  youth,  and  so  have  a  blood- 
feud  with  Gospatric,  I  have  a  hornet's  nest  about 
my  ears.  Not  only  he  and  his  sons  —  who  are 
masters  of  Scotch  Northumberland 1  —  but  all  his 
cousins  —  King  Malcolm,  and  Donaldbain,  and, 
for  aught  I  know,  Harold  and  the  Godwinssons,  if 
he  bid  them  take  up  the  quarrel.  And  beside, 
that  Dolfin  is  a  big  man.  If  you  cross  Scot  and 
Saxon,  you  breed  a  very  big  man.  If  you  cross 
again  with  a  Dane  or  a  Norseman,  you  breed  a 
giant.  His  grandfather  was  a  Scots  prince,  his 
grandmother  an  English  princess,  his  mother  a 
Norse  princess,  as  you  know  —  and  how  big  he  is, 
you  should  remember.  He  weighs  half  as  much 
again  as  I,  and  twice  as  much  as  you." 

"Butchers  count  by  weight,  and  knights  by 
courage,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  Very  well  for  you,  who  are  young  and  active : 
but  I  take  him  to  be  a  better  man  than  that  Ogre 
of  Cornwall,  whom  they  say  you  killed." 

"  What  care  I  ?  Let  him  be  twice  as  good,  I  'd 
try  him." 

"  Ah !  I  knew  you  were  the  old  Hereward  still. 
Now  hearken  to  me.  Be  my  champion.  You  owe 
me  a  service,  lad.  Fight  that  man.  Challenge 
him  in  open  field.  Kill  him,  as  you  are  sure  to 
do.  Claim  the  lass,  and  win  her  —  and  then  we 
will  part  her  dower.  And  (though  it  is  little  that 
I  care  for  young  lasses'  fancies),  to  tell  you  truth, 
she  never  favored  any  man  but  you." 

Hereward  started  at  the  snare  which  had  been 
1  Between  Tweed  and  Forth. 


Asked  to  Slay  an  Old  Comrade     251 

laid   for   him;  and   then   fell   into   a    very   great 
laughter. 

"  My  most  dear  and  generous  host :  you  are  the 
wiser,  the  older  you  grow.  A  plan  worthy  of 
Solomon !  You  are  rid  of  Sieur  Dolfin  without 
any  blame  to  yourself." 

"Just  so." 

"While  I  win  the  lass;  and,  living  here  in 
Flanders,  am  tolerably  safe  from  any  blood-feud 
of  the  Gospatrics." 

"  Just  so." 

"  Perfect :  but  there  is  only  one  small  hindrance 
to  the  plan ;  and  that  is  —  that  I  am  married 
already." 

Gilbert  stopped  short,  and  swore  a  great  oath. 

"  But,"  he  said  after  a  while,  "  does  that  matter 
so  much,  after  all?" 

"Very  little,  indeed,  as  all  the  world  knows,  if 
one  has  money  enough,  and  power  enough." 

"  And  you  have  both,  they  say." 

"But,  still  more  unhappily,  my  money  is  my 
wife's." 

"  Peste !  " 

"And  more  unhappily  still,  I  am  so  foolishly 
fond  of  her,  that  I  would  sooner  have  her  in  her 
smock,  than  any  other  woman  with  half  England 
for  a  dower." 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  must  look  out  for  another 
champion." 

"  Or  save  yourself  the  trouble,  by  being  —  just 
as  a  change  —  an  honest  man." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  Gilbert,  laugh- 
ing; "  but  it  is  hard  to  begin  so  late  in  life." 

"  And  after  one  has  had  so  little  practice." 

"  Aha  !  Thou  art  the  same  merry  dog  of  a  Here- 


252  Hereward  the  Wake 

ward.  Come  along.  But  could  we  not  poison 
this  Dolfin,  after  all?" 

To  which  proposal  Hereward  gave  no  encour- 
agement. 

"  And  now,  my  tres  beau  sire,  may  I  ask  you,  in 
return,  what  business  brings  you  to  Flanders?" 

"Have  I  not  told  you?" 

"  No,  but  I  have  guessed.  Gilbert  of  Ghent  is 
on  his  way  to  William  of  Normandy." 

"Well.     Why  not?" 

"Why  not?  —  certainly.  And  has  brought  out 
of  Scotland  a  few  gallant  gentlemen,  and  stout 
housecarles  of  my  acquaintance." 

Gilbert  laughed. 

"  You  may  well  say  that.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
we  have  flitted,  bag  and  baggage.  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  we  have  left  a  dog  behind." 

"  So  you  intend  to  '  colonize  '  in  England,  as  the 
learned  clerks  would  call  it?  To  settle;  to  own 
land;  and  enter,  like  the  Jews  of  old,  into  goodly 
houses  which  you  builded  not,  farms  which  you 
tilled  not,  wells  which  you  digged  not,  and  orchards 
which  you  planted  not?" 

"  Why,  what  a  learned  clerk  you  are  yourself! 
That  sounds  like  Scripture." 

"  And  so  it  is.  I  heard  it  in  a  French  priest's 
sermon  which  he  preached  here  in  St.  Omer  a  Sun- 
day or  two  back,  exhorting  all  good  Catholics,  in 
the  Pope's  name,  to  enter  upon  the  barbarous  land 
of  England,  tainted  with  the  sin  of  Simon  Magus, 
and  expel  thence  the  heretical  priests,  and  so 
forth ;  promising  them  that  they  should  have  free 
leave  to  cut  long  thongs  out  of  other  men's  hides." 

Gilbert  chuckled. 

"  You  laugh.     The  priest  did  not ;  for  after  ser- 


Asked  to  Slay  an  Old  Comrade     253 

mon  I  went  up  to  him,  and  told  him  how  I  was  an 
Englishman,  and  an  outlaw,  and  a  desperate  man, 
who  feared  neither  saint  nor  devil ;  and  if  I  heard 
such  talk  as  that  again  in  St.  Omer,  I  would  so 
shave  the  speaker's  crown  that  he  should  never 
need  razor  to  his  dying  day." 

"  And  what  is  that  to  me  ?  "  said  Gilbert,  in  an 
uneasy,  half-defiant  tone ;  for  Hereward's  tone  had 
been  more  than  half-defiant. 

"  This.  That  there  are  certain  broad  lands  in 
England,  which  were  my  father's,  and  are  now  my 
nephews'  and  my  mother's,  and  some  which  should 
of  right  be  mine.  And  I  advise  you,  as  a  friend, 
not  to  make  entry  on  those  lands,  lest  Hereward  in 
turn  make  entry  on  you.  And  who  is  he  that  will 
deliver  you  out  of  my  hand  ?  " 

"  God  and  His  saints  alone,  thou  fiend  out  of 
the  pit,"  quoth  Gilbert,  laughing.  But  he  was 
growing  warm,  and  began  to  tutoyer  Hereward. 

"  I  am  in  earnest,  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  my  good 
friend  of  old  time." 

"  I  know  thee  well  enough,  man.  Why,  in  the 
name  of  all  glory  and  plunder,  art  thou  not  coming 
with  us?  They  say  William  has  offered  thee  the 
earldom  of  Northumberland." 

"  He  has  not.  And  if  he  had,  it  is  not  his  to 
give.  And  if  it  were,  it  is  by  right  neither  mine, 
nor  my  nephews',  but  Waltheof  Siwardsson's.  Now 
hearken  unto  me ;  and  settle  it  in  your  minds,  thou 
and  William  both,  that  your  quarrel  is  against  none 
but  Harold  and  the  Godwinssons,  and  their  men  of 
Wessex:  but  that  if  you  go  to  cross  the  Watling 
Street,  and  meddle  with  the  free  Danes,  who  are 
none  of  Harold's  men " 

"  Stay.     Harold  has  large  manors  in  Lincolnshire, 


254  Hereward  the  Wake 

and  so  has  Edith  his  sister,  and  what  of  them,  Sieur 
Hereward?" 

"  That  the  man  who  touches  them,  even  though 
the  men  on  them  may  fight  on  Harold's  side,  had 
better  have  put  his  head  into  a  hornet's  nest.  Un- 
justly were  they  seized  from  their  true  owners  by 
Harold  and  his  fathers ;  and  the  holders  of  them 
will  owe  no  service  to  him  a  day  longer  than  they 
can  help :  but  will,  if  he  fall,  demand  an  earl  of 
their  own  race,  or  fight  to  the  death." 

"  Best  make  young  Waltheof  earl,  then." 

"  Best  keep  thy  foot  out  of  them,  and  the  foot 
of  any  man  for  whom  thou  carest.  Now  good- 
bye. Friends  we  are,  and  friends  let  us  be." 

"  Ah,  that  thou  wert  coming  to  England  !  " 

"  I  bide  my  time.  Come  I  may,  when  I  see  fit. 
But  whether  I  come  as  friend  or  foe,  depends  on 
that  of  which  I  have  given  thee  fair  warning." 

So  they  parted  for  the  time. 

It  will  be  seen  hereafter,  how  Gilbert  took  his 
own  advice  about  young  Waltheof:  but  did  not 
take  Hereward's  advice  about  the  Lincoln  manors. 

In  Baldwin's  hall  that  day,  Hereward  met  Dol- 
fin ;  and  when  the  magnificent  young  Scot  sprang 
to  him,  embraced  him,  bewailed  his  murdered  boy, 
talked  over  old  passages,  complimented  him  on 
his  fame,  lamented  that  he  himself  had  won  no 
such  honors  in  the  field,  Hereward  felt  much  more 
inclined  to  fight  for  him  than  against  him. 

Presently  the  ladies  entered  from  the  bower  ad- 
joining the  hall.  A  buzz  of  expectation  rose  from 
all  the  knights,  and  Alftruda's  name  was  whispered 
round. 

She  came  in;  and  Hereward  saw,  at  the  first1 
glance,  that  Gilbert  had  for  once  in  his  life  spoken 


Asked  to  Slay  an  Old  Comrade     255 

truth.  So  beautiful  a  damsel  he  had  never  beheld ; 
and  as  she  swept  down  toward  him,  he  for  one 
moment  forgot  Torfrida,  and  stood  spell-bound 
like  the  rest. 

Her  eye  caught  his.  If  his  face  showed  recog- 
nition, hers  showed  none.  The  remembrance  of 
their  early  friendship,  of  her  deliverance  from  the 
monster,  had  plainly  passed  away. 

"  Fickle,  ungrateful  things,  these  women," 
thought  Hereward. 

She  passed  him  close.  As  she  did  so,  she 
turned  her  head,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face 
one  moment,  haughty  and  cold. 

"  So  you  could  not  wait  for  me  ?  "  said  she,  in  a 
quiet  whisper,  and  went  on  straight  to  Dolfin,  who 
stood  trembling  with  expectation  and  delight 

She  put  her  hand  into  his. 

"  Here  stands  my  champion,"  said  she. 

"  Say,  here  kneels  your  slave,"  cried  the  Scot, 
dropping  to  the  pavement  a  true  Highland  knee. 
Whereon  forth  twanged  a  harp,  and  Dolfin's  min- 
strel sang,  in  most  melodious  Gaelic  — 

"  Strong  as  a  horse's  hock,  shaggy  as  a  stag's  brisket, 
Is  the  knee  of  the  young  torrent-leaper,  the  pride  of  the 

house  of  Crinan. 
It  bent  not  to  Macbeth  the  accursed,  it  bends  not  even  to 

Malcolm  the  Anointed, 
But  it  bends  like  a  harebell  —  who  shall  blame  it?  — 

before  the  breath  of  beauty." 

Which  magnificent  effusion  being  interpreted  by 
Hereward  for  the  instruction  of  the  ladies,  procured 
for  the  red-headed  bard  more  than  one  handsome 
gift 

A  sturdy  voice  arose  out  of  the  crowd. 

"  The  lady,  my  lord  marquis,  and  knights  all, 


256  Hereward  the  Wake 

will  need  no  champion  as  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
When  one  sees  so  fair  a  pair  together,  what  can  a 
knight  say,  in  the  name  of  all  knighthood,  but 
that  the  heavens  have  made  them  for  each  other, 
and  that  it  were  sin  and  shame  to  sunder  them?" 

The  voice  was  that  of  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  who, 
making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  walked  up  to  the 
pair,  his  weather-beaten  countenance  wreathed  into 
what  were  meant  for  paternal  smiles. 

"Why  did  you  not  say  as  much  in  Scotland, 
and  save  me  all  this  trouble  ? "  pertinently  asked 
the  plain-spoken  Scot. 

"  My  lord  prince,  you  owe  me  a  debt  for  my 
caution.  Without  it,  the  fair  lady  had  never 
known  the  whole  fervency  of  your  love ;  nor  these 
noble  knights  and  yourself  the  whole  evenness  of 
Count  Baldwin's  justice." 

Alftruda  turned  her  head  away  half  contempt- 
uously ;  and  as  she  did  so,  she  let  her  hand  drop 
listlessly  from  Dolfin's  grasp,  and  drew  back  to  the 
other  ladies. 

A  suspicion  crossed  Hereward's  mind.  Did  she 
really  love  the  prince  ?  Did  those  strange  words 
of  hers  mean  that  she  had  not  yet  forgotten  Here- 
ward  himself? 

However,  he  said  to  himself  that  it  was  no  con- 
cern of  his,  as  it  certainly  was  not :  went  home  to 
Torfrida,  told  her  everything  that  had  happened ; 
laughed  over  it  with  her;  and  then  forgot  Alf- 
truda, Dolfin,  and  Gilbert,  in  the  prospect  of  a 
great  campaign  in  Holland. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HOW  HEREWARD  TOOK  THE  NEWS  FROM 
STANFORD   BRIGG  AND   HASTINGS 

AFTER  that,  news  came  thick  and  fast. 
News  of  all  the  fowl  of  heaven  flocking  to 
the  feast  of  the  great  God,  that  they  might  eat  the 
flesh  of  kings,  and  captains,  and  mighty  men,  and 
horses,  and  them  that  sit  on  them,  and  the  flesh  of 
all  men,  both  bond  and  free. 

News  true,  news  half  true,  news  false.  News 
from  Rome,  how  England,  when  conquered,  was 
to  be  held  as  a  fief  of  St.  Peter,  and  spiritually,  as 
well  as  temporarily,  enslaved.  News  how  the 
Gonfanon  of  St.  Peter,  and  a  ring 'with  a  bit  of  St. 
Peter  himself  enclosed  therein,  had  come  to  Rouen, 
to  go  before  the  Norman  host  as  the  Ark  went 
before  that  of  Israel. 

Then  news  from  the  North.  How  Tosti  had 
been  to  Sweyn,  and  bid  him  come  back  and  win 
the  country  again,  as  Canute  his  uncle  had  done ; 
and  how  the  cautious  Dane  had  answered  that  he 
was  a  much  smaller  man  than  Canute ;  that  he  had 
enough  to  hold  his  own  against  the  Norsemen, 
and  could  not  afford  to  throw  for  such  high  stakes 
as  his  mighty  uncle. 

Then  news  how  Tosti  had  been  to  Norway,  to 
Harold  Hardraade,  and  asked  him  why  he  had  been 

Vol.  12— L 


258  Hereward  the  Wake 

fighting  fifteen  years  for  Denmark,  when  England 
lay  open  to  him.  And  how  Harold  of  Norway 
had  agreed  to  come ;  and  how  he  had  levied  one- 
half  of  the  able-bodied  men  in  Norway ;  and  how 
he  was  gathering  a  mighty  fleet  at  Solundir,  in  the 
mouth  of  the  Sogne  Fiord.  Of  all  this  Hereward 
was  well  informed ;  for  Tosti  came  back  again  to 
St.  Omer,  and  talked  big.  But  Hereward  and  he 
had  no  dealings  with  each  other.  But  at  last, 
when  Tosti  tried  to  entice  some  of  Hereward's 
men  to  sail  with  him,  Hereward  sent  him  word 
that  if  he  met  him  he  would  kill  him  in  the  streets. 

Then  Tosti,  who  (though  he  wanted  not  for 
courage)  knew  that  he  was  no  match  for  Here- 
ward, went  off  to  Bruges,  leaving  his  wife  and 
family  behind ;  gathered  sixty  ships  at  Ostend ; 
went  off  to  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  and  forced  the  lands- 
folk  to  give  him  money  and  food.  Then  Harold 
of  England's  fleet,  which  was  watching  the  coast 
against  the  Normans,  drove  him  away;  and  he 
sailed  off  north,  full  of  black  rage  against  his 
brother  Harold  and  all  Englishmen,  and  burned, 
plundered,  and  murdered,  along  the  coast  of  Lin- 
colnshire, out  o*f  brute  spite  to  the  Danes  who 
had  expelled  him. 

Then  came  news  how  he  had  got  into  the  Hum- 
ber;  how  Morcar  and  Edwin  with  the  Northum- 
brians had  driven  him  out ;  and  how  he  had  gone 
off  to  Scotland  to  meet  Harold  of  Norway ;  and 
how  he  had  put  his  hands  between  Harold's,  and 
become  his  man. 

And  all  the  while  the  Norman  camp  at  St. 
Pierre-sur-Dive  grew  and  grew;  and  all  was  ready, 
if  the  wind  would  but  change. 

And  so  Hereward  looked  on,  helpless,  and  saw 


How  Hereward  Took  the  News      259 

these  two  great  storm-clouds  growing  —  one  from 
north  and  one  from  south  —  to  burst  upon  his 
native  land. 

Two  invasions  at  the  same  moment  of  time ;  and 
these  no  mere  Viking  raids  for  plunder,  but  delib- 
erate attempts  at  conquest  and  colonization,  by  the 
two  most  famous  captains  of  the  age.  What  if  both 
succeeded  ?  What  if  the  two  storm-clouds  swept 
across  England,  each  on  its  own  path,  and  met  in 
the  midst,  to  hurl  their  lightnings  into  each  other? 
A  fight  between  William  of  Normandy  and  Harold 
of  Norway,  on  some  moorland  in  Mercia  —  that 
would  be  a  battle  of  giants ;  a  sight  at  which  Odin 
and  the  gods  of  Valhalla  would  rise  from  their  seats, 
and  throw  away  the  mead-horn,  to  stare  down  on 
the  deeds  of  heroes  scarcely  less  mighty  than  them- 
selves. Would  that  neither  might  win  !  Would 
that  they  would  destroy  and  devour,  till  there  was 
none  left  of  Frenchmen  or  of  Norwegians  ! 

So  sung  Hereward,  after  his  heathen  fashion: 
and  his  housecarles  applauded  the  song.  But  Tor- 
frida  shuddered. 

"  And  what  will  become  of  the  poor  English  in 
the  mean  time  ?  " 

"They  have  brought  it  on  themselves,"  said 
Hereward,  bitterly.  "  Instead  of  giving  the  crown 
to  the  man  who  should  have  had  it —  to  Sweyn  of 
Denmark  —  they  let  Godwin  put  it  on  the  head  of 
a  drivelling  monk :  and  as  they  sowed,  so  will  they 
reap." 

But  Hereward's  own  soul  was  black  within  him. 
To  see  these  mighty  events  passing,  as  it  were, 
within  reach  of  his  hand  —  and  he  unable  to  take 
his  share  in  them  —  For  what  share  could  he  take? 
That  of  Tosti  Godwinsson  against  his  own  nephews? 


260  Hereward  the  Wake 

That  of  Harold  Godwinsson,  the  usurper?  That 
of  the  tanner's  grandson  against  any  man?  Ah, 
that  he  had  been  in  England  !  Ah,  that  he  had 
been,  where  he  might  have  been,  where  he  ought 
to  have  been,  but  for  his  own  folly  —  high  in 
power  in  his  native  land ;  perhaps  a  great  earl ; 
perhaps  commander  of  all  the  armies  of  the  Dane- 
lagh. And  bitterly  he  cursed  his  youthful  sins,  as 
he  rode  to  and  fro  almost  daily  to  the  port,  asking 
for  news,  and  getting  often  only  too  much. 

For  now  came  news  that  the  Norsemen  had 
landed  in  Humber ;  that  Edwin  and  Morcar  were 
beaten  at  York;  that  Hardraade  and  Tosti  were 
masters  of  the  North. 

And  with  that,  news  that  by  the  virtue  of  the 
relics  of  St.  Valeri,  which  had  been  brought  out 
of  their  shrine  to  frighten  the  demons  of  the  storm, 
and  by  the  intercession  of  the  blessed  St.  Michael, 
patron  of  Normandy,  the  winds  had  changed,  and 
William's  whole  armament  had  crossed  the  Chan- 
nel, landed  upon  an  undefended  shore,  and  fortified 
themselves  at  Pevensey  and  Hastings. 

And  then  followed  a  fortnight  of  silence  and 
torturing  suspense. 

Hereward  could  hardly  eat,  drink,  sleep,  or 
speak.  He  answered  Torfrida's  consolations 
curtly  and  angrily,  till  she  betook  herself  to  silent 
caresses,  as  to  a  sick  animal.  But  she  loved  him 
all  the  better  for  his  sullenness ;  for  it  showed  that 
his  English  heart  was  wakening  again,  sound  and 
strong. 

At  last  news  came.  He  was  down  as  usual,  at 
the  port.  A  ship  had  just  come  up  the  estuary. 
A  man  just  landed  stood  on  the  beach,  gesticulat- 
ing, and  calling  in  an  unknown  tongue  to  the  by- 


How  Hereward  Took  the  News      261 

standers,  who  laughed  at  him,  and  seemed  inclined 
to  misuse  him. 

Hereward  galloped  down  the  beach. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  villains  !  Why,  man,  you  are 
a  Norseman !  " 

"  Norseman  am  I,  jarl ;  Thord  Gunlaugsson  is 
my  name;  and  news  I  bring  for  the  Countess 
Judith  (as  the  French  call  her)  that  shall  turn  her 
golden  hair  to  snow :  —  yea,  and  all  fair  lasses' 
hair  from  Lindesness  to  Loffoden." 

"Is  the  earl  dead?" 

"  And  Harold  Sigurdsson." 

Hereward  sat  silent,  appalled.  For  Tosti  he 
cared  not.  But  Harold  Sigurdsson,  Harold  Hard- 
raade,  Harold  the  Viking,  Harold  the  Varanger, 
Harold  the  Lionslayer,  Harold  of  Constantinople, 
the  bravest  among  champions,  the  wisest  among 
kings,  the  cunningest  among  minstrels,  the  darling 
of  the  Vikings  of  the  North ;  the  one  man  whom 
Hereward  had  taken  for  his  pattern  and  his  ideal, 
the  one  man  under  whose  banner  he  would  have 
been  proud  to  fight — the  earth  seemed  empty,  if 
Harold  Hardraade  were  gone. 

"  Thord  Gunlaugsson,"  cried  he  at  last,  "  or 
whatever  be  thy  name,  if  thou  hast  lied  to  me,  I 
will  draw  thee  with  wild  horses." 

"  Would  God  that  I  did  lie  !  I  saw  him  fall  with 
an  arrow  through  his  throat.  Then  Jarl  Tosti  took 
the  Land-ravager  and  held  it  up  till  he  died.  Then 
Eystein  Orre  took  it,  coming  up  hot  from  the  ships. 
And  then  he  died  likewise.  Then  they  all  died.  We 
would  take  no  quarter.  We  threw  off  our  mail,  and 
fought  baresark,  till  all  were  dead  together." 1 

1  For  the  details  of  this  battle,  see  Snorro  Sturleson ;  or  the 
admirable  description  in  Bulwer's  "Harold." 


262  Hereward  the  Wake 

"How  earnest  them,  then,  hither?" 

"  Styrkar  the  marshal  escaped  in  the  night,  and  I 
with  him,  and  a  few  more.  And  Styrkar  bade  me 
bring  the  news  to  Flanders,  to  the  countess,  while  he 
took  it  to  Olaf  Haroldsson,  who  lay  off  in  the  ships." 

"  And  thou  shalt  take  it.  Martin  !  get  this  man 
a  horse.  A  horse,  ye  villains,  and  a  good  one,  on 
your  lives !  " 

"And  Tosti  is  dead?" 

"  Dead  like  a  hero.  Harold  offered  him  quarter 
—  offered  him  his  earldom,  they  say:  even  in  the 
midst  of  battle:  but  he  would  not  take  it.  He 
said  he  was  the  Sigurdsson's  man  now,  and  true 
man  he  would  be." 

Harold  offered  him?  —  What  art  babbling  at? 
Who  fought  you  ?  " 

"  Harold  Godwinsson,  the  king." 

"Where?" 

"  At  Stanford  Brigg,  by  York  Town." 

"Harold  Godwinsson  slew  Harold  Sigurdsson? 
After  this  wolves  may  eat  lions !  " 

"  The  Godwinsson  is  a  gallant  fighter  and  a  wise 
general,  or  I  had  not  been  here  now." 

"  Get  on  thy  horse,  man !  "  said  he,  scornfully 
and  impatiently,  "  and  gallop,  if  thou  canst." 

"I  have  ridden  many  a  mile  in  Ireland,  earl, 
and  have  not  forgotten  my  seat." 

"  Thou  hast,  hast  thou? "  said  Martin;  "  thou  art 
Thord  Gunlaugsson  of  Waterford." 

"That  am  I.     How  knowest  thou  me,  man?" 

"I  am  of  Waterford.  Thou  hadst  a  slave  lass, 
once,  I  think;  Mew:  they  called  her  Mew,  her 
skin  it  was  so  white." 

"  What 's  that  to  thee?  "  asked  Thord,  turning  on 
him,  savagely. 


How  Hereward  Took  the  News     263 

"  I  meant  no  harm.  I  saw  her  at  Waterford 
when  I  was  a  boy,  and  thought  her  a  fair  lass 
enough,  that  is  all." 

And  Martin  dropped  into  the  rear. 

As  they  rode  side  by  side,  Hereward  got  more 
details  of  the  fight. 

"  I  knew  it  would  fall  out  so.  I  foretold  it !  " 
said  Thord.  "  I  had  a  dream.  I  saw  us  come  to 
English  land,  and  fight;  and  I  saw  the  banners 
floating.  And  before  the  English  army  was 
a  great  witch-wife,  and  rode  upon  a  wolf,  and  he 
had  a  corpse  in  his  bloody  jaws.  And  when  he  had 
eaten  one  up,  she  threw  him  another,  till  he  had 
swallowed  all." 

"Did  she  throw  him  thine?"  asked  Martin,  who 
ran  holding  by  the  stirrup. 

"That  did  she,  and  eaten  I  saw  myself.  Yet 
here  I  am  alive." 

"  Then  thy  dreams  were  naught." 

"  I  do  not  know  that.  The  wolf  may  have  me 
yet." 

"  I  fear  thou  art  fey."  * 

"What  the  devil  is  that  to  thee  if  I  be?" 

"  Naught.  But  be  comforted.  I  am  a  necro- 
mancer; and  this  I  know  by  my  art,  that  the 
weapon  that  will  slay  thee  was  never  forged  in 
Flanders  here." 

"  There  was  another  man  had  a  dream,"  said 
Thord,  turning  from  Martin  angrily.  "  He  was 
standing  in  the  king's  ship,  and  he  saw  a  great 
witch-wife  with  a  fork  and  a  trough  stand  on  the 
island.  And  he  saw  a  fowl  on  every  ship's  stem,  a 
raven,  or  else  an  eagle ;  and  he  heard  the  witch- 
wife  sing  an  evil  song."2 

1  Prophesying  his  own  death  ;  literally,  "  fated." 

2  For  these  two  dreams,  see  Snorro  Sturleson. 


264  Hereward  the  Wake 

By  this  time  they  were  in  St.  Omer. 

Hereward  rode  straight  to  the  Countess  Judith's 
house.  He  never  had  entered  it  yet,  and  was 
likely  to  be  attacked  if  he  entered  it  now.  But 
when  the  door  was  opened,  he  thrust  in  with  so 
earnest  and  sad  a  face  that  the  servants  let  him 
pass,  though  not  without  growling  and  motions  as 
of  getting  their  weapons. 

"  I  come  in  peace,  my  men,  I  come  in  peace : 
this  is  no  time  for  brawls.  Where  is  the  steward, 
or  one  of  the  countess'  ladies?  —  Tell  her,  madam, 
that  Hereward  waits  her  commands,  and  entreats 
her,  in  the  name  of  St.  Mary  and  all  saints,  to 
vouchsafe  him  one  word  in  private." 

The  lady  hurried  into  the  bower.  The  next 
moment  Judith  hurried  out  into  the  hall,  her  fair 
face  blanched,  her  fair  eyes  wide  with  terror. 

Hereward  fell  on  his  knee. 

"What  is  this?  It  must  be  bad  news  if  you 
bring  it." 

"  Madam,  the  grave  covers  all  feuds.  Earl 
Tosti  was  a  very  valiant  hero ;  and  would  to  God 
that  we  had  been  friends." 

She  did  not  hear  the  end  of  the  sentence,  but 
fell  back  with  a  shriek  into  the  women's  arms. 

Hereward  told  them  all  that  they  needed  to 
know  of  that  fratricidal  strife ;  and  then  to  Thord 
Gunlaugsson,  — 

"  Have  you  any  token  that  this  is  true  ?  Mind 
what  I  warned  you,  if  you  lied !  " 

"  This  have  I,  jarl  and  ladies,"  and  he  drew  from 
his  bosom  a  reliquary.  "  Ulf  the  marshal  took  this 
off  the  jarl's  neck,  and  bade  me  give  it  to  none  but 
his  lady.  Therefore,  with  your  pardon,  sir  jarl,  I 
did  not  tell  you  that  I  had  it,  not  knowing  whether 
you  were  an  honest  man." 


How  Hereward  Took  the  News      265 

"  Thou  hast  done  well ;  and  an  honest  man 
thou  shalt  find  me,  though  no  jarl  as  yet.  Come 
home,  and  I  will  feed  thee  at  my  own  table ;  for  I 
have  been  a  sea-rover  and  a  Viking  myself." 

They  left  the  reliquary  with  the  ladies,  and  went 

"  See  to  this  good  man,  Martin." 

"  That  will  I,  as  the  apple  of  my  eye." 

And  Hereward  went  into  Torfrida's  room. 

"  I  have  news,  news  !  " 

"So  have  I." 

"  Harold  Hardraade  is  slain,  and  Tosti  too !  " 

"Where?  how?" 

"  Harold  Godwinsson  slew  them  by  York." 

"Brother  has  slain  brother?  O  God  that  died 
on  cross !  "  murmured  Torfrida,  "  when  will  men 
look  to  thee,  and  have  mercy  on  their  own  souls? 
But,  Hereward  —  I  have  news  —  news  more  terri- 
ble by  far.  It  came  an  hour  ago.  I  have  been 
dreading  your  coming  back." 

"  Say  on.  If  Harold  Hardraade  is  dead,  no 
worse  can  happen." 

"  But  Harold  Godwinsson  is  dead  !  " 

"Dead!  Who  next?  William  of  Normandy? 
The  world  seems  coming  to  an  end,  as  the  monks 
say  it  will  soon." l 

"  A  great  battle  has  been  fought  at  a  place  they 
call  Heathfield." 

"Close  by  Hastings?  Close  to  the  landing- 
place?  Harold  must  have  flown  thither  back  from 
York.  What  a  captain  the  man  is,  after  all !  " 

"Was.  He  is  dead,  and  all  the  Godwinssons; 
and  England  lost." 

1  There  was  a  general  rumor  abroad  that  the  end  of  the  world 
was  at  hand  j  for  the  "  one  thousand  years "  of  prophecy  had 
expired. 


266  Hereward  the  Wake 

If  Torfrida  had  feared  the  effect  of  her  news,  her 
heart  was  lightened  at  once  as  Hereward  answered 
haughtily  — 

"England  lost?  Sussex  is  not  England,  nor 
Wessex  either,  any  more  than  Harold  was  king 
thereof.  England  lost?  Let  the  tanner  try  to 
cross  the  Watling  Street,  and  he  will  find  out  that 
he  has  another  stamp  of  Englishman  to  deal 
with." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward,  do  not  be  unjust  to  the 
dead.  Men  say  —  the  Normans  say  —  that  they 
fought  like  heroes." 

"  I  never  doubted  that:  but  it  makes  me  mad  — 
as  it  does  all  eastern  and  northern  men  —  to  hear 
these  Wessex  churls  and  Godwinssons  calling  them- 
selves all  England." 

Torfrida  shook  her  head.  To  her,  as  to  most 
foreigners,  Wessex  and  the  southeast  counties  were 
England ;  the  most  civilized ;  the  most  French ; 
the  seat  of  royalty;  having  all  the  prestige  of 
law,  and  order,  and  wealth.  And  she  was  shrewd 
enough  to  see,  that  as  it  was  the  part  of  England 
which  had  most  sympathy  with  French  civiliza- 
tion, it  was  the  very  part  where  the  Frenchman 
could  most  easily  gain  and  keep  his  hold.  The 
event  proved  that  Torfrida  was  right ;  but  all  she 
said  was,  "  It  is  dangerously  near  to  France,  at 
least." 

"  It  is  that.  I  would  sooner  see  100,000  French 
north  of  the  Humber,  than  10,000  in  Kent  and 
Sussex,  where  he  can  hurry  over  supplies  and 
men  every  week.  It  is  the  starting-point  for  him, 
if  he  means  to  conquer  England  piecemeal." 

"  And  he  does." 

"  And  he  shall  not !  "  and  Hereward  started  up. 


How  Hereward  Took  the  News     267 

and  walked  to  and  fro.  "  If  all  the  Godwinssons 
be  dead,  there  are  Leofricssons  left,  I  trust,  and 
Siward's  kin,  and  the  Gospatrics  in  Northumbria. 
Ah !  Where  were  my  nephews  in  the  battle  ? 
Not  killed  too,  I  trust?  " 
•  "  They  were  not  in  the  battle." 

"Not  with  their  new  brother-in-law?  Much  he 
has  gained  by  throwing  away  the  Swan-neck,  like 
a  base  traitor  as  he  was,  and  marrying  my  pretty 
niece.  But  where  were  they?" 

"  No  man  knows  clearly.  They  followed  him 
down  as  far  as  London,  and  then  lingered  about 
the  city,  meaning  no  man  can  tell  what ;  but  we 
shall  hear  —  and  I  fear  hear  too  much  —  before  a 
week  is  over." 

"  Heavens !  this  is  madness,  indeed.  This  is 
the  way  to  be  eaten  up  one  by  one.  Neither  to 
do  the  thing  nor  leave  it  alone.  If  I  had  been 
there  !  If  I  had  been  there " 

"  You  would  have  saved  England,  my  hero ! " 
and  Torfrida  believed  her  own  words. 

"  I  don't  say  that.  Besides,  I  say  that  England 
is  not  lost.  But  there  were  but  two  things  to  do : 
either  to  have  sent  to  William  at  once,  and  offered 
him  the  crown,  if  he  would  but  guarantee  the 
Danish  laws  and  liberties  to  all  north  of  the 
Watling  Street;  and  if  he  would,  fall  on  the  God- 
winssons themselves,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  and 
send  their  heads  to  William." 

"Or  what?" 

"  Or  have  marched  down  after  him,  with  every 
man  they  could  muster,  and  thrown  themselves  on 
the  Frenchman's  flank  in  the  battle  —  or  between 
him  and  the  sea,  cutting  him  off  from  France  — 
or  —  Oh,  that  I  had  but  been  there,  what  things 


268  Hereward  the  Wake 

could  I  have  done !  —  And  now  these  two  wretched 
boys  have  fooled  away  their  only  chance " 

"  Some  say  that  they  hoped  for  the  crown 
themselves." 

"  Which?  Not  both?  Vain  babies  !  ''  and  Here- 
ward  laughed  bitterly.  "  I  suppose  one  will  mur- 
der the  other  next,  in  order  to  make  himself  the 
stronger  by  being  the  sole  rival  to  the  tanner. 
The  midden  cock  sole  rival  to  the  eagle !  Boy 
Waltheof  will  set  up  his  claim  next,  I  presume,  as 
Siward's  son ;  and  then  Gospatric,  as  Ethelred 
Evil-Counsel's  great-grandson ;  and  so  forth,  and 
so  forth,  till  they  all  eat  each  other  up,  and  the 
tanner's  grandson  eats  the  last.  What  care  I? 
Tell  me  about  the  battle,  my  lady,  if  you  know 
aught.  That  is  more  to  my  way  than  their 
statecraft." 

And  Torfrida  told  him  all  she  knew  of  the  great 
fight  on  Heathfield  Down,  which  men  call  Senlac, 
and  the  battle  of  Hastings.  And  as  she  told  it,  in 
her  wild  eloquent  fashion,  Hereward's  face  red- 
dened, and  his  eyes  kindled.  And  when  she  told 
of  the  last  struggle  round  the  Dragon1  standard; 
of  Harold's  mighty  figure  in  the  front  of  all,  hew- 
ing with  his  great  double-headed  axe,  and  then 
rolling  in  gore  and  agony,  an  arrow  in  his  eyeball ; 
of  the  last  rally  of  the  men  of  Kent ;  of  Gurth,  the 

i  I  have  dared  to  differ  from  the  excellent  authorities  who 
say  that  the  standard  was  that  of  a  Fighting  Man :  because  the 
Bayeux  tapestry  represents  the  last  struggle  as  in  front  of  a 
Dragon  standard,  which  must  be  —  as  is  to  be  expected  —  the 
old  standard  of  Wessex,  the  standard  of  English  Royalty.  That 
Harold  had  also  a  Fighting  Man  standard,  and  that  it  was  sent  by 
William  to  the  Pope,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt.  But  if  the 
Bayeux  tapestry  be  correct,  the  fury  of  the  fight  for  the  standard 
would  be  explained.  It  would  be  a  fight  for  the  very  symbol  of 
King  Edward's  dynasty. 


How  Hereward  Took  the  News     269 

last  defender  of  the  standard,  falling  by  William's 
sword ;  of  the  standard  hurled  to  the  ground,  and 
the  popish  Gonfanon  planted  in  its  place  —  Then 
Hereward 's  eyes,  for  the  first  and  last  time  for 
many  a  year,  were  flushed  with  noble  tears ;  and 
springing  up  he  cried,  "  Honor  to  the  Godwins- 
sons  !  Honor  to  the  southern  men  !  Honor  to  all 
true  English  hearts !  Why  was  I  not  there,  to  go 
with  them  to  Valhalla?  " 

Torfrida  caught  him  round  the  neck.  "  Because 
you  are  here,  my  hero,  to  free  your  country  from 
her  tyrants,  and  win  yourself  immortal  fame." 

"  Fool  that  I  am,  I  verily  believe  I  am  crying." 

"Those  tears,"  said  she,  as  she  kissed  them 
away,  "  are  more  precious  to  Torfrida  than  the 
spoils  of  a  hundred  fights,  for  they  tell  me  that 
Hereward  still  loves  his  country ;  still  honors  virtue, 
even  in  a  foe." 

And  thus  Torfrida  —  whether  from  a  woman's 
sentiment  of  pity,  or  from  a  woman's  instinctive 
abhorrence  of  villany  and  wrong,  had  become 
there  and  then  an  Englishwoman  of  the  English, 
as  she  proved  by  strange  deeds  and  sufferings  for 
many  a  year. 

"  Where  is  that  Norseman,  Martin  ? "  asked 
Hereward  that  night,  ere  he  went  to  bed.  "  I  want 
to  hear  more  of  poor  Hardraade." 

"  You  can't  speak  to  him  now,  master.  He  is 
sound  asleep  this  two  hours;  and  warm  enough, 
I  will  warrant." 

"Where?" 

"  In  the  great  green  bed  with  blue  curtains,  just 
above  the  kitchen." 

"What  nonsense  is  this?" 

"  The  bed  where  you  and  I  shall  lie  some  day ; 


270  Hereward  the  Wake 

and  the  kitchen  to  which  we  shall  be  sent  down  to 
turn  our  own  spits,  unless  we  mend  our  manners 
mightily." 

Hereward  looked  at  the  man.  Madness  glared 
unmistakably  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  have  killed  him  !  " 

"  And  buried  him,  cheating  the  priests." 

"  Traitor !  "  cried  Hereward,  seizing  him. 

"Take  your  hands  off  my  throat,  master.  He 
was  only  my  father." 

Hereward  stood  shocked  and  puzzled.  After 
all,  the  man  was  No-man's-man  and  would  not  be 
missed ;  and  Martin  Lightfoot,  letting  alone  his 
madness,  was  as  a  third  hand  and  foot  to  him  all 
day  long. 

So  all  he  said  was,  "I  hope  you  have  buried 
him  well  and  safely?" 

"You  may  walk  your  bloodhound  over  his 
grave  to-morrow  without  finding  him." 

And  where  he  lay,  Hereward  never  knew.  But 
from  that  night  Martin  got  a  trick  of  stroking  and 
patting  his  little  axe,  and  talking  to  it  as  if  it  had 
been  alive. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

HOW  EARL  GODWIN'S  WIDOW  CAME  TO 
ST.  OMER 

IT  would  be  vain  to  attempt  even  a  sketch  of  the 
reports  which  came  to  Flanders  from  England 
during  the  next  two  years ;  or  of  the  conversations 
which  ensued  thereon  between  Baldwin  and  his 
courtiers,  and  between  Hereward  and  Torfrida. 
Two  reports  out  of  three  were  doubtless  false ;  and 
two  conversations  out  of  three  founded  on  those 
false  reports. 

It  is  best,  therefore,  to  interrupt  the  thread  of 
the  story,  by  some  small  sketch  of  the  state  of 
England  after  the  battle  of  Hastings ;  that  so  we 
may  at  least  guess  at  the  tenor  of  Hereward  and 
Torfrida's  counsels. 

William  had,  as  yet,  conquered  little  more  than 
the  South  of  England  :  hardly  indeed  all  that ;  for 
Herefordshire,  Worcestershire,  and  the  neighbor- 
ing parts,  which  had  belonged  to  Sweyn,  Harold's 
brother,  were  still  insecure;  and  the  noble  old 
city  of  Exeter,  confident  in  her  Roman  walls,  did 
not  yield  till  two  years  after,  in  A.  D.  1068. 

North  of  his  conquered  territory,  Mercia 
stretched  almost  across  England,  from  Chester 
to  the  Wash,  governed  by  Edwin  and  Morcar. 
Edwin  called  himself  Earl  of  Mercia,  and  held  the 


272  Hereward  the  Wake 

Danish  burghs.  On  the  extreme  northwest,  the 
Roman  city  of  Chester  was  his;  while  on  the 
extreme  southeast  (as  Domesday  Book  testifies), 
Morcar  still  held  large  lands  round  Bourne,  and 
throughout  the  South  of  Lincolnshire,  besides  call- 
ing himself  the  Earl  of  Northumbria.  The  young 
men  seemed  the  darlings  of  the  half-Danish  North- 
men. Chester,  Coventry,  Derby,  Nottingham, 
Leicester,  Stamford,  a  chain  of  fortified  towns 
stretching  across  England,  were  at  their  command ; 
Blethyn,  prince  of  North  Wales,  was  their  nephew. 

Northumbria,  likewise,  was  not  yet  in  William's 
hands.  Indeed  it  was  in  no  man's  hands,  since 
the  free  Danes  north  of  the  Humber  had  expelled 
Tosti,  putting  Morcar  in  his  place.  Morcar,  in- 
stead of  residing  in  his  earldom  of  Northumbria, 
had  made  one  Oswulf  his  deputy:  but  he  had 
rivals  enough.  There  was  Gospatric,  claiming 
through  his  grandfather  Uchtred,  and  strong  in 
the  protection  of  his  cousin  Malcolm,  King  of 
Scotland ;  there  was  young  Waltheof,  "  the  forest 
thief,"  —  or  rather,  perhaps,  "the  thief  of  slaugh- 
ter," who  had  been  born  to  Siward  Biorn  in  his 
old  age,  just  after  the  battle  of  Dunsinane;  a  fine 
and  gallant  young  man,  destined  to  a  swift  and 
sad  end. 

William  sent  to  the  Northumbrians  one  Copsi,  a 
thane  of  mark  and  worth,  as  his  procurator,  to 
expel  Oswulf.  Oswulf  and  the  land  folk  answered 
by  killing  Copsi,  and  doing  every  man  that  which 
was  right  in  his  own  eyes. 

William  determined  to  propitiate  the  young 
earls.  Perhaps  he  intended  to  govern  the  centre 
and  north  of  England  through  them,  as  feudal 
vassals;  and  hoped  meanwhile  to  pay  his  Norman 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    273 

conquerors  sufficiently  out  of  the  forfeited  lands  of 
Harold,  and  those  who  had  fought  by  his  side  at 
Hastings.  It  was  not  his  policy  to  make  himself, 
much  less  to  call  himself,  the  conqueror  of  Eng- 
land. He  claimed  to  be  its  legitimate  sovereign, 
deriving  from  his  cousin  Edward  the  Confessor; 
and  whosoever  would  acknowledge  him  as  such, 
had  neither  right  nor  cause  to  fear.  Therefore  he 
sent  for  the  young  earls.  He  courted  Waltheof, 
and  more,  really  loved  him.  He  promised  Edwin 
his  daughter  in  marriage.  Some  say  it  was  Con- 
stance, afterwards  married  to  Alan  Fergant,  of 
Brittany :  but  it  may  also  have  been  the  beautiful 
Adelaide,  who,  none  knew  why,  early  gave  up  the 
world,  and  died  in  a  convent.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  two  young  people  saw  each,  and  loved  each 
other  at  Rouen,  whither  William  took  Waltheof, 
Edwin,  and  his  brother;  as  honored  guests  in 
name ;  in  reality  as  hostages  likewise. 

With  the  same  rational  and  prudent  policy, 
William  respected  the  fallen  royal  families,  both  of 
Harold  and  of  Edward ;  at  least,  he  warred  not 
against  women;  and  the  wealth  and  influence  of 
the  great  English  ladies  was  enormous.  Edith, 
sister  of  Harold,  and  widow  of  the  Confessor,  lived 
in  wealth  and  honor  at  Winchester.  Gyda, 
Harold's  mother,  retained  Exeter  and  her  land. 
Aldytha,1  or  Elfgiva,  widow  of  Harold,  lived  rich 
and  safe  in  Chester.  Godiva  the  Countess  owned, 
so  antiquarians  say,  manors  from  Cheshire  to 
Lincolnshire,  which  would  be  now  yearly  worth 
the  income  of  a  great  duke.  Agatha  the  Hun- 
garian, widow  of  Edmund  the  outlaw,  dwelt  at 

1  See  her  history,  told,  as  none  other  can  tell  it,  in  Bulwer's 
"Harold" 


274  Hereward  the  Wake 

Romsey  in  Hampshire,  under  William's  care.  Her 
son  Edgar  Etheling,  the  rightful  heir  of  England, 
was  treated  by  William  not  only  with  courtesy, 
but  with  affection ;  and  allowed  to  rebel,  when  he 
did  rebel,  with  impunity.  For  the  descendant  of 
Rollo  the  heathen  Viking  had  become  a  civilized 
chivalrous  Christian  knight.  His  mighty  forefather 
would  have  split  the  Etheling's  skull  with  his  own 
axe.  A  Frank  king  would  have  shaved  the  young 
man's  head,  and  immured  him  in  a  monastery. 
An  eastern  sultan  would  have  thrust  out  his  eyes, 
or  strangled  him  at  once.  But  William,  however 
cruel,  however  unscrupulous,  had  a  knightly  heart, 
and  somewhat  of  a  Christian  conscience ;  and  his 
conduct  to  his  only  lawful  rival  is  a  noble  trait 
amid  many  sins. 

So  far  all  went  well,  till  William  went  back  to 
France ;  to  be  likened,  not  as  his  ancestors,  to  the 
gods  of  Valhalla,  or  the  barbarous  and  destroying 
Vikings  of  mythic  ages,  but  to  Caesar,  Pompey, 
Vespasian,  and  the  civilized  and  civilizing  heroes 
o^classic  Rome. 

But  while  he  sat  at  the  Easter  Feast  at  Fecamp, 
displaying  to  Franks,  Flemings,  and  Bretons,  as 
well  as  to  his  own  Normans,  the  treasures  of 
Edward's  palace  at  Westminster,  and  "  more  Eng- 
lish wealth  than  could  be  found  in  the  whole  estate 
of  Gaul ;  "  while  he  sat  there  in  his  glory,  with  his 
young  dupes,  Edwin,  Morcar,  and  Waltheof,  by  his 
side ;  having  sent  Harold's  banner  in  triumph  to 
the  Pope,  as  a  token  that  he  had  conquered  the 
church  as  well  as  the  nation  of  England,  and  hav- 
ing founded  abbeys  as  thank-offerings  to  Him  who 
had  seemed  to  prosper  him  in  his  great  crime :  at 
that  very  hour  the  handwriting  was  on  the  wall 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    275 

unseen  by  man ;  and  he,  and  his  policy,  and  his 
race,  were  weighed  in  the  balance,  and  found 
wanting. 

For  now  broke  out  in  England  that  wrong-doing 
which  endured  as  long  as  she  was  a  mere  appanage 
and  foreign  farm  of  Norman  kings,  whose  hearts 
and  homes  were  across  the  seas  in  France.  Fitz- 
Osbern,  and  Odo  the  warrior-prelate,  William's 
half-brother,  had  been  left  as  his  regents  in  Eng- 
land. Little  do  they  seem  to  have  cared  for  Wil- 
liam's promise  to  the  English  people  that  they 
were  to  be  ruled  still  by  the  laws  of  Edward  the 
Confessor,  and  that  where  a  grant  of  land  was 
made  to  a  Norman  he  was  to  hold  it  as  the  Eng- 
lishman had  done  before  him,  with  no  heavier 
burdens  on  himself,  but  with  no  heavier  burdens 
on  the  poor  folk  who  tilled  the  land  for  him. 
Oppression  began,  lawlessness,  and  violence ;  men 
were  ill-treated  on  the  highways;  and  women  — 
what  was  worse  —  in  their  own  homes;  and  the 
regents  abetted  the  ill-doers.  "  It  seems,"  says  a 
most  impartial  historian,1  "  as  if  the  Normans, 
released  from  all  authority,  all  restraint,  all  fear  of 
retaliation,  determined  to  reduce  the  English 
nation  to  servitude,  and  drive  them  to  despair." 

In  the  latter  attempt  they  succeeded  but  too 
soon ;  in  the  former,  they  succeeded  at  last :  but 
they  paid  dearly  for  their  success. 

Hot  young  Englishmen  began  to  emigrate. 
Some  went  to  the  court  of  Constantinople,  to  join 
the  Varanger  guard,  and  have  their  chance  of  a 
Polotaswarf  like  Harold  Hardraade.  Some  went 
to  Scotland  to  Malcolm  Canmore,  and  brooded 
over  return  and  revenge.  But  Harold's  sons  went 
*  The  late  Sir  F.  Palgrave. 


276  Hereward  the  Wake 

to  their  father's  cousin,  Ulfsson  of  Denmark,  and 
called  on  him  to  come  and  reconquer  England  in 
the  name  of  his  uncle  Canute  the  Great ;  and  many 
an  Englishman  went  with  them. 

These  things  Gospatric  watched,  as  earl  (so  far 
as  he  could  make  any  one  obey  him  in  the  utter 
subversion  of  all  order)  of  the  lands  between  Forth 
and  Tyne.  And  he  determined  to  flee,  ere  evil 
befell  him,  to  his  cousin  Malcolm  Canmore,  taking 
with  him  Marlesweyn  of  Lincolnshire,  who  had 
fought,  it  is  said,  by  Harold's  side  at  Hastings, 
and  young  Waltheof  of  York.  But,  moreover, 
having  a  head,  and  being  indeed,  as  his  final  suc- 
cess showed,  a  man  of  ability  and  courage,  he 
determined  on  a  stroke  of  policy,  which  had  incal- 
culable after-effects  on  the  history  of  Scotland. 
He  persuaded  Agatha  the  Hungarian,  Margaret 
and  Christina  her  daughters,  and  Edgar  the  Ethel- 
ing  himself,  to  flee  with  him  to  Scotland.  How 
he  contrived  to  send  them  messages  to  Romsey, 
far  south  in  Hampshire ;  how  they  contrived  to 
escape  to  the  Humber,  and  thence  up  to  the  Forth ; 
this  is  a  romance  in  itself,  of  which  the  chroniclers 
have  left  hardly  a  hint.  But  the  thing  was  done ; 
and  at  St.  Margaret's  Hope,  as  tradition  tells,  the 
Scottish  king  met,  and  claimed,  as  his  unwilling 
bride,  that  fair  and  holy  maiden  who  was  destined 
to  soften  his  fierce  passions,  to  civilize  and  purify 
his  people,  and  to  become  —  if  all  had  their  just 
dues  —  the  true  patron  saint  of  Scotland. 

Malcolm  Canmore  promised  a  mighty  army; 
Sweyn  a  mighty  fleet.  And  meanwhile,  Eustace 
of  Boulogne,  the  Confessor's  brother-in-law,  him- 
self a  Norman,  rebelled  at  the  head  of  the  down- 
trodden men  of  Kent;  and  the  Welshmen  were 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    277 

harrying  Herefordshire  with  fire  and  sword,  in 
revenge  for  Norman  ravages. 

But  as  yet  the  storm  did  not  burst.  William 
returned,  and  with  him  something  like  order.  He 
conquered  Exeter;  he  destroyed  churches  and 
towns  to  make  his  New  Forest.  He  brought  over 
his  Queen  Matilda  with  pomp  and  great  glory; 
and  with  her,  the  Bayeux  tapestry  which  she  had 
wrought  with  her  own  hands ;  and  meanwhile  Sweyn 
Ulfsson  was  too  busy  threatening  Olaf  Haroldsson, 
the  new  king  of  Norway,  to  sail  for  England  ;  and 
the  sons  of  King  Harold  of  England  had  to  seek 
help  from  the  Irish  Danes ;  and  ravaging  the 
country  round  Bristol,  be  beaten  off  by  the  valiant 
burghers  with  heavy  loss. 

So  the  storm  did  not  burst ;  and  need  not  have 
burst,  it  may  be,  at  all,  had  William  kept  his 
plighted  word.  But  he  would  not  give  his  fair 
daughter  to  Edwin.  His  Norman  nobles,  doubtless, 
looked  upon  such  an  alliance  as  debasing  to  a 
civilized  lady.  In  their  eyes,  the  Englishman  was 
a  barbarian ;  and  though  the  Norman  might  well 
marry  the  Englishwoman,  if  she  had  beauty  or 
wealth,  it  was  a  dangerous  precedent  to  allow  the 
Englishman  to  marry  the  Norman  woman,  and 
that  woman  a  princess.  Beside,  there  were  those 
who  coveted  Edwin's  broad  lands;  Roger  de 
Montgomery,  who  already  (it  is  probable)  held 
part  of  them  as  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  had  no  wish 
to  see  Edwin  the  son-in-law  of  his  sovereign.  Be 
the  cause  what  it  may,  William  faltered  and  refused ; 
and  Edwin  and  Morcar  left  the  Court  of  West- 
minster in  wrath.  Waltheof  followed  them, 
having  discovered — what  he  was  weak  enough 
continually  to  forget  again  —  the  treachery  of  the 


278  Hereward  the  Wake 

Norman.  The  young  earls  went  off — one  mid- 
landward,  one  northward.  The  people  saw  their 
wrongs  in  those  of  their  earls,  and  the  rebellion 
burst  forth  at  once ;  the  Welsh  under  Blethyn,  and 
the  Cumbrians  under  Malcolm  and  Donaldbain, 
giving  their  help  in  the  struggle. 

It  was  the  year  1069;  a  more  evil  year  for 
England  than  even  the  year  of  Hastings. 

The  rebellion  was  crushed  in  a  few  months.  The 
great  general  marched  steadily  north,  taking  the 
boroughs  one  by  one,  storming,  burning,  some- 
times, whole  towns,  massacring  or  mutilating  young 
and  old,  and  leaving,  as  he  went  on,  a  new  portent, 
a  Norman  donjon  —  till  then  all  but  unseen  in  Eng- 
land —  as  a  place  of  safety  for  his  garrisons.  At 
Oxford  (sacked  horribly,  and  all  but  destroyed), 
at  Warwick  (destroyed  utterly),  at  Nottingham,  at 
Stafford,  at  Shrewsbury,  at  Cambridge  on  the 
huge  barrow  which  overhangs  the  fen;  and  at 
York  itself,  which  had  opened  its  gates,  trembling, 
to  the  great  Norman  strategist  —  at  each  doomed 
borough  rose  a  castle,  with  its  tall  square  tower 
within,  its  bailey  around,  and  all  the  appliances  of 
that  ancient  Roman  science  of  fortification,  of 
which  the  Danes,  as  well  as  the  Saxons,  knew 
nothing.  Their  struggle  had  only  helped  to  tighten 
their  bonds ;  and  what  wonder  ?  There  was  among 
them  neither  unity,  nor  plan,  nor  governing  mind 
and  will.  Hereward's  words  had  come  true.  The 
only  man,  save  Gospatric,  who  had  a  head  in 
England,  was  Harold  Godwinsson :  and  he  lay  in 
Waltham  Abbey,  while  the  monks  sang  masses  for 
his  soul. 

Edwin,  Morcar,  and  Waltheof  trembled  before  a 
genius  superior  to  their  own  —  a  genius,  indeed, 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    279 

which  had  not  its  equal  then  in  Christendom. 
They  came  in,  and  begged  grace  of  the  king. 
They  got  it.  But  Edwin's  earldom  was  forfeited, 
and  he  and  his  brother  became,  from  thenceforth, 
desperate  men. 

Malcolm  of  Scotland  trembled  likewise,  and 
asked  for  peace.  The  clans,  it  is  said,  rejoiced 
thereat,  having  no  wish  for  a  war  which  could  buy 
them  neither  spoil  nor  land.  Malcolm  sent  am- 
bassadors to  William,  and  took  (at  least  for  his 
Cumbrian  lands  on  this  side  the  border)  that  oatb 
of  fealty  to  the  "  Basileus  of  Britain,"  which  more 
than  one  Scottish  king  and  kinglet  had  taken  be- 
fore—  with  the  secret  proviso  (which,  during  the 
middle  ages,  seems  to  have  been  thoroughly  un- 
derstood in  such  cases  by  both  parties),  that  he 
should  be  William's  man  just  as  long  as  William 
could  compel  him  to  be  so,  and  no  longer. 

Then  came  cruel  and  unjust  confiscations. 
Ednoth  the  standard-bearer  had  fallen  at  Bristol, 
fighting  for  William  against  the  Haroldssons :  yet 
all  his  lands  were  given  away  to  Normans.  Edwin 
and  Morcar's  lands  were  parted  likewise ;  and  — 
to  specify  cases  which  bear  especially  on  the  his- 
tory of  Hereward  —  Oger  the  Briton  got  many  of 
Morcar's  manors  round  Bourne,  and  Gilbert  of 
Ghent  many  belonging  to  Marlesweyn  about  Lin- 
coln city.  And  so  did  that  valiant  and  crafty 
knight  find  his  legs  once  more  on  other  men's 
ground,  and  reappears  in  monkish  story  as  "  the 
most  devout,  and  pious  earl,  Gilbert  of  Ghent." 

What  followed,  Hereward  must  have  heard  not 
from  flying  rumors ;  but  from  one  who  had  seen, 
and  known,  and  judged  of  all.1 

1  For  Gyda's  coming  to  St.  Omer  that  year,  see  Ordericus 
Vitalis. 


28 o  Hereward  the  Wake 

For  one  day,  about  this  time,  Hereward  was 
riding  out  of  the  gate  of  St.  Omer,  when  the  porter 
appealed  to  him.  Begging  for  admittance  were 
some  twenty  women,  and  a  clerk  or  two ;  and 
they  must  needs  see  the  chatelain.  The  chatelain 
was  away.  What  should  he  do  ? 

Hereward  looked  at  the  party,  and  saw,  to  his 
surprise,  that  they  were  Englishwomen ;  and  that 
two  of  them  were  women  of  rank,  to  judge  from 
the  rich  materials  of  their  travel-stained  and  tat- 
tered garments.  The  ladies  rode  on  sorry  country 
garrons,  plainly  hired  from  the  peasants  who  drove 
them.  The  rest  of  the  women  had  walked ;  and 
weary,  and  footsore  enough  they  were. 

"You  are  surely  Englishwomen?  "  asked  he  of 
the  foremost,  as  he  lifted  his  cap. 

The  lady  bowed  assent,  beneath  a  heavy  veil. 

"  Then  you  are  my  guests.  Let  them  pass  in." 
And  Hereward  threw  himself  off  his  horse,  and 
took  the  lady's  bridle. 

"  Stay,"  she  said,  with  an  accent  half  Wessex, 
half  Danish.  "  I  seek  the  Countess  Judith,  if  it 
will  please  you  to  tell  me  where  she  lives." 

"  The  Countess  Judith,  lady,  is  no  longer  in  St. 
Omer.  Since  her  husband's  death,  she  lives  with 
her  mother  at  Bruges." 

The  lady  made  a  gesture  of  disappointment. 

"  It  were  best  for  you,  therefore,  to  accept  my 
hospitality,  till  such  time  as  I  can  send  you  and 
your  ladies  on  to  Bruges." 

"  I  must  first  know  who  it  is  who  offers  me 
hospitality." 

This  was  said  so  proudly,  that  Hereward  answered 
proudly  enough  in  return  — 

"  I  am  Hereward  Leofricsson,  whom  his  foes  call 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    281 

Hereward  the  outlaw;  and  his  friends,  Hereward 
the  master  of  knights." 

She  started,  and  threw  her  veil  back,  looking 
intently  at  him.  He,  for  his  part,  gave  but  one 
glance  and  then  cried  — 

"  Mother  of  heaven  !  You  are  the  great  count- 
ess !  " 

"Yes,  I  was  that  woman  once  if  all  be  not  a 
dream.  I  am  now  I  know  not  what,  seeking  hos- 
pitality—  if  I  can  believe  my  eyes  and  ears  — 
of  Godiva's  son." 

"And  from  Godiva's  son  you  shall  have  it,  as 
though  you  were  Godiva's  self.  God  so  deal  with 
my  mother,  madam,  as  I  will  deal  with  you." 

"  His  father's  wit,  and  his  mother's  beauty ! " 
said  the  great  countess,  looking  upon  him.  "  Too, 
too  like  my  own  lost  Harold  !  " 

"  Not  so,  my  lady.  I  am  a  dwarf  compared  to 
him."  And  Hereward  led  the  garron  on  by  the 
bridle,  keeping  his  cap  in  hand,  while  all  wondered 
who  the  dame  could  be  before  whom  Hereward 
the  champion  would  so  abase  himself. 

"  Leofric's  son  does  me  too  much  honor.  He 
has  forgotten,  in  his  chivalry,  that  I  am  Godwin's 
widow." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  that  you  are  Sprakaleg's 
daughter,  and  niece  of  Canute,  king  of  kings.1 
Neither  have  I  forgotten  that  you  are  an  English 
lady,  in  times  in  which  all  English  folk  are  one, 
and  all  old  English  feuds  are  wiped  away." 

"  In  English  blood.  Ah  !  if  these  last  words  of 
yours  were  true,  as  you,  perhaps,  might  make  them 
true,  England  might  be  saved  even  yet" 

"Saved?" 

1  See  note  at  end  of  this  chapter. 

Vol.  12— M 


282  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  If  there  were  one  man  -in  it,  who  cared  for 
aught  but  himself." 

Hereward  was  silent  and  thoughtful. 

He  had  sent  Martin  back  to  his  house,  to  tell 
Torfrida  to  prepare  bath  and  food ;  for  the  Count- 
ess Gyda,  with  all  her  train,  was  coming  to  be  her 
guest.  And  when  they  entered  the  court,  Tor- 
frida stood  ready. 

"  Is  this  your  lady?"  asked  Gyda,  as  Hereward 
lifted  her  from  her  horse. 

"  I  am  his  lady,  and  your  servant,"  said  Torfrida, 
bowing. 

"  Child  !  child  !  Bow  not  to  me.  Talk  not  of 
servants  to  a  wretched  slave,  who  only  longs  to 
crawl  into  some  hole  and  die,  forgetting  all  she 
was,  and  all  she  had." 

And  the  great  countess  reeled  with  weariness 
and  woe,  and  fell  upon  Torfrida's  neck. 

A  tall  veiled  lady  next  her  helped  to  support 
her;  and  between  them  they  almost  carried  her 
through  the  hall,  and  into  Torfrida's  best  guest- 
chamber. 

And  there  they  gave  her  wine,  and  comforted 
her,  and  let  her  weep  awhile  in  peace. 

The  second  lady  had  unveiled  herself,  display- 
ing a  beauty  which  was  still  brilliant,  in  spite  of 
sorrow,  hunger,  the  stains  of  travel,  and  more  than 
forty  years  of  life. 

"  She  must  be  Gunhilda,"  guessed  Torfrida  to 
herself,  and  not  amiss. 

She  offered  Gyda  a  bath,  which  she  accepted 
eagerly,  like  a  true  Dane. 

"  I  have  not  washed  for  weeks.  Not  since  we 
sat  starving  on  the  Flat  Holm  there,  in  the  Severn 
sea.  I  have  become  as  foul  as  my  own  fortunes; 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    283 

and  why  not?  It  is  all  of  a  piece.  Why  should 
not  beggars  go  unwashed?" 

But  when  Torfrida  offered  Gunhilda  the  bath, 
she  declined. 

"  I  have  done,  lady,  with  such  carnal  vanities. 
What  use  in  cleaning  the  body  which  is  itself 
unclean,  and  whitening  the  outside  of  this  sepul- 
chre? If  I  can  but  cleanse  my  soul  fit  for  my 
heavenly  Bridegroom,  the  body  may  become  — 
as  it  must  at  last  —  food  for  worms." 

"  She  will  needs  enter  religion,  poor  child,"  said 
Gyda;  "and  what  wonder?" 

"  I  have  chosen  the  better  part,  and  it  shall  not 
be  taken  from  me." 

"  Taken  !  Taken  !  Hark  to  her.  She  means 
to  mock  me,  the  proud  nun,  with  that  same 
'taken.'" 

"  God  forbid,  mother !  " 

"  Then  why  say  taken,  to  me  from  whom  all  is 
taken?  —  Husband,  sons,  wealth,  land,  renown, 
power  —  power  which  I  loved,  wretch  that  I  was, 
as  well  as  husband  and  as  sons.  Ah  God !  the 
girl  is  right.  Better  to  rot  in  the  convent,  than 
•writhe  in  the  world.  Better  never  to  have  had, 
than  to  have  had  and  lost." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  Gunhilda.  "  '  Blessed  are  the 
barren,  and  they  that  never  gave  suck,'  saith  the 
Lord." 

"No!  Not  so!"  cried  Torfrida.  "Better, 
countess,  to  have  had  and  lost,  than  never  to 
have  had  at  all.  The  glutton  was  right,  swine  as 
he  was,  when  he  said  that  not  even  heaven  could 
take  from  him  the  dinners  he  had  eaten.  How 
much  more  we,  if  we  say,  not  even  heaven  can 
take  from  us  the  love  wherewith  we  have  loved? 


284  Hereward  the  Wake 

Will  not  our  souls  be  richer  thereby,  through  all 
eternity?  " 

"  In  purgatory?  "  asked  Gunhilda. 

"  In  purgatory,  or  where  else  you  will.  I  love 
my  love ;  and  though  my  love  prove  false,  he  has 
been  true ;  though  he  trample  me  under  foot,  he 
has  held  me  in  his  bosom ;  though  he  kill  me,  he 
has  lived  for  me.  Better  to  have  been  his  but  for 
one  day,  than  never  to  have  been  his  at  all.  What 
I  have  had  will  still  be  mine,  when  that  which  I 
have  shall  fail  me." 

"  And  you  would  buy  short  joy  with  lasting 
woe?" 

"  That  would  I,  like  a  brave  man's  child.  I 
say  —  The  present  is  mine,  and  I  will  enjoy  it  as 
greedily  as  a  child.  Let  the  morrow  take  thought 
for  the  things  of  itself.  —  Countess,  your  bath  is 
ready." 

Nineteen  years  after,  when  the  great  conqueror 
lay,  tossing  with  agony  and  remorse,  upon  his 
dying-bed,  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  his  victims, 
the  clerks  of  St.  Savior's  in  Bruges  city  were  put- 
ting up  a  leaden  tablet  (which  remains,  they  say, 
unto  this  very  day)  to  the  memory  of  one  whose 
gentle  soul  had  gently  passed  away.  "  Charitable 
to  the  poor,  kind  and  agreeable  to  her  attendants, 
courteous  to  strangers,  and  only  severe  to  herself," 
Gunhilda  had  lingered  on  in  a  world  of  war  and 
crime ;  and  had  gone,  it  may  be,  to  meet  Torfrida 
beyond  the  grave,  and  there  finish  their  doubtful 
argument. 

The  countess  was  served  with  food  in  Torfrida's 
chamber.  Hereward  and  his  wife  refused  to  sit, 
and  waited  on  her  standing. 

"  I  wish  to  show  these  saucy  Flemings,"  said  he, 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    285 

"  that  an  English  princess  is  a  princess  still  in  the 
eyes  of  one  more  noble  born  than  any  of  them." 

But  after  she  had  eaten,  she  made  Torfrida  sit 
before  her  on  the  bed,  and  Hereward  likewise; 
and  began  to  talk;  eagerly,  as  one  who  had  not 
unburdened  her  mind  for  many  weeks;  and  elo- 
quently too,  as  became  Sprakaleg's  daughter,  and 
Godwin's  wife. 

She  told  them  how  she  had  fled  from  the  storm 
of  Exeter,  with  a  troop  of  women,  who  dreaded 
the  brutalities  of  the  Normans.1  How  they  had 
wandered  up  through  Devon,  found  fishers'  boats 
at  Watchet  in  Somersetshire,  and  gone  off  to  the 
little  desert  island  of  the  Flat  Holm,  in  hopes  of 
there  meeting  with  the  Irish  fleet,  which  her  sons, 
Edmund  and  Godwin,  were  bringing  against  the 
West  of  England.  How  the  fleet  had  never  come, 
and  they  had  starved  for  many  days ;  and  how  she 
had  bribed  a  passing  merchantman  to  take  her  and 
her  wretched  train  to  the  land  of  Baldwin  the 
Debonair,  who  might  have  pity  on  her  for  the  sake 
of  his  daughter  Judith,  and  Tosti  her  husband,  who 
died  in  his  sins. 

And  at  his  name,  her  tears  began  to  flow  afresh : 
fallen  in  his  overweening  pride,  —  like  Sweyn,  like 
Harold,  like  herself 

"  The  time  was,  when  I  would  not  weep.  If  I 
could  I  would  not.  For  a  year,  lady,  after  Senlac, 
I  sat  like  a  stone.  I  hardened  my  heart  like  a  wall 
of  brass  against  God  and  man.  Then,  there  upon 
the  Flat  Holm,  feeding  on  shell-fish,  listening  to 
the  wail  of  the  sea-fowl,  looking  outside  across  the 

1  To  do  William  justice,  he  would  not  allow  his  men  to  enter 
the  city  while  they  were  blood-hot ;  and  so  prevented,  as  far  as  he 
could,  the  excesses  which  Gyda  had  feared. 


286  Hereward  the  Wake 

wan  water  for  the  sails  which  never  came,  my  heart 
broke  down  a  moment.  And  I  heard  a  voice  cry- 
ing, '  There  is  no  help  in  man,  go  thou  to  God.' 
And  I  answered  —  That  were  a  beggar's  trick,  to 
go  to  God  in  need,  when  I  went  not  to  Him  in 
plenty.  No.  Without  God  I  planned,  and  without 
Him  I  must  fail.  Without  Him  I  went  into  the  bat- 
tle, and  without  Him  I  must  bide  the  brunt.  And 
at  best  —  Can  He  give  me  back  my  sons  ?  And  I 
hardened  my  heart  again  like  a  stone,  and  shed  no 
tear  till  I  saw  your  fair  face  this  day." 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  turning  sharply  on  Here- 
ward,  "  what  do  you  do  here  ?  Do  you  not  know 
that  your  nephews'  lands  are  parted  between 
grooms  from  Angers,  and  scullions  from  Nor- 
mandy? " 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  both  them  and  the 
grooms." 

"Sir?" 

"  You  forget,  lady,  that  I  am  an  outlaw." 

"  But  do  you  not  know  that  your  mother's  lands 
are  seized  likewise  ?  " 

"  She  will  take  refuge  with  her  grandsons,  who 
are,  as  I  hear,  again  on  good  terms  with  their  new 
master,  showing  thereby  a  most  laudable  and 
Christian  spirit  of  forgiveness." 

"On  good  terms?  Do  you  not  know,  then, 
that  they  are  fighting  again,  outlaws,  and  des- 
perate at  the  Frenchman's  treachery?  Do  you 
not  know  that  they  have  been  driven  out  of  York, 
after  defending  the  city  street  by  street,  house  by 
house  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  there  is  not  an  old 
man  nor  a  child  in  arms  left  in  York ;  and  that  your 
nephews,  and  the  few  fighting  men  who  were  left, 
went  down  the  Humber  in  boats,  and  north  to 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St  Omer    287 

Scotland,  to  Gospatric  and  Waltheof?  Do  you 
not  know  that  your  mother  is  left  alone  —  at 
Bourne,  or  God  knows  where  —  to  endure  at  the 
hands  of  Norman  ruffians  what  thousands  more 
endure?" 

Hereward  made  no  answer,  but  played  with  his 
dagger. 

"  And  do  you  know  that  England  is  ready  to 
burst  into  a  blaze,  if  there  be  one  man  wise  enough 
to  put  the  live  coal  into  the  right  place?  That 
Sweyn  Ulfsson  my  nephew,  or  Asbiorn  his  brother, 
will  surely  land  there  within  the  year  with  a 
mighty  host?  And  that  if  there  be  one  man  in 
England  of  wit  enough,  and  knowledge  enough  of 
war,  to  lead  the  armies  of  England,  the  Frenchman 

may  be  driven  into  the  sea is  there  any  here 

who  understands  English?" 

"  None  but  ourselves." 

"  And  Canute's  nephew  sit  on  Canute's  throne?  " 

Hereward  still  played  with  his  dagger. 

"  Not  the  sons  of  Harold,  then?  "  asked  he,  after 
a  while. 

"  Never !  I  promise  you  that  —  I,  Countess 
Gyda,  their  grandmother." 

"  Why  promise  me,  of  all  men,  O  great  lady?  " 

"  Because  —  I  will  tell  you  after.  But  this  I 
say,  my  curse  on  the  grandson  of  mine  who  shall 
try  to  seize  that  fatal  crown,  which  cost  the  life  of 
my  fairest,  my  noblest,  my  wisest,  my  bravest !  " 

Hereward  bowed  his  head,  as  if  consenting  to 
the  praise  of  Harold.  But  he  knew  who  spoke; 
and  he  was  thinking  within  himself:  "  Her  curse 
may  be  on  him  who  shall  seize,  and  yet  not  on 
him  to  whom  it  is  given." 

"  All  that  they,  young  and  unskilful  lads,  have  a 


288  Hereward  the  Wake 

right  to  ask  is,  their  father's  earldoms  and  their 
father's  lands.  Edwin  and  Morcar  would  keep 
their  earldoms  as  of  right.  It  is  a  pity  that  there 
is  no  lady  of  the  house  of  Godwin,  whom  we  could 
honor  by  offering  her  to  one  of  your  nephews,  in 
return  for  their  nobleness  in  giving  Aldytha  to  my 
Harold.  But  this  foolish  girl  here,  refuses  to 
wed " 

"  And  is  past  forty,"  thought  Hereward  to  him- 
self. 

"  However,  some  plan  to  join  the  families  more 
closely  together  might  be  thought  on.  One  of 
the  young  earls  might  marry  Judith  here.  Wal- 
theof  would  have  Northumbria,  in  right  of  his 
father,  and  ought  to  be  well  content  —  for  although 
she  is  somewhat  older  than  he,  she  is  peerlessly 
beautiful  —  to  marry  your  niece  Aldytha." 

"And  Gospatric?" 

"  Gospatric,"  she  said,  with  a  half-sneer,  "will 
be  as  sure,  as  he  is  able,  to  get  something  worth 
having  for  himself  out  of  any  medley.  Let  him 
have  Scotch  Northumbria,  if  he  claim  it.  He  is 
more  English  than  Dane :  he  will  keep  those 
northern  English  more  true  to  us." 

"But  what  of  Sweyn's  gallant  holders  and 
housecarles,  who  are  to  help  to  do  this  mighty 
deed?" 

"  Senlac  left  gaps  enough  among  the  noblemen 
of  the  South,  which  they  can  fill  up,  in  the  place 
of  the  French  scum  who  now  riot  over  Wessex. 
And  if  that  should  suffice,  what  higher  honor  for 
me,  or  for  my  daughter  the  queen,  than  to  devote 
our  lands  to  the  heroes  who  have  won  them  back 
for  us?" 

Hereward  hoped  inwardly  that  Gyda  would  be 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    289 

as  good  as  her  word ;  for  her  greedy  grasp  had 
gathered  to  itself,  before  the  Battle  of  Hastings, 
no  less  than  six-and-thirty  thousand  acres  of  good 
English  soil. 

"  I  have  always  heard,"  said  he,  bowing,  "  that 
if  the  Lady  Gyda  had  been  born  a  man,  Eng- 
land would  have  had  another  all-seeing  and 
all-daring  statesman,  and  Earl  Godwin  a  rival, 
instead  of  a  helpmate.  Now  I  believe  what  I 
have  heard." 

But  Torfrida  looked  sadly  at  the  countess. 
There  was  something  pitiable  in  the  sight  of  a 
woman  ruined,  bereaved,  seemingly  hopeless,  por- 
tioning out  the  very  land  from  which  she  was  a 
fugitive ;  unable  to  restrain  the  passion  for  intrigue, 
which  had  been  the  toil  and  the  bane  of  her  sad 
and  splendid  life. 

"  And  now,"  she  went  on,  "  surely  some  kind 
saint  brought  me,  even  on  my  first  landing,  to  you 
of  all  living  men." 

"  Doubtless  the  blessed  St.  Bertin,  beneath 
whose  shadow  we  repose  here  in  peace,"  said 
Hereward,  somewhat  dryly. 

"  I  will  go  barefoot  to  his  altar  to-morrow,  and 
offer  my  last  jewel,"  said  Gunhilda. 

"  You,"  said  Gyda,  without  noticing  her  daugh- 
ter, "  are  above  all  men  the  man  who  is  needed." 
And  she  began  praising  Hereward's  valor,  his 
fame,  his  eloquence,  his  skill  as  a  general  and 
engineer ;  and  when  he  suggested,  smiling,  that  he 
was  an  exile  and  an  outlaw,  she  insisted  that  he 
was  all  the  fitter  from  that  very  fact.  He  had  no 
enemies  among  the  nobles.  He  had  been  mixed 
up  in  none  of  the  civil  wars  and  blood  feuds  of  the 
last  fifteen  years.  He  was  known  only  as  that 


290  Hereward  the  Wake 

which  he  was,  the  ablest  English  captain  of  his  day 
—  the  only  man  who  could  cope  with  William,  the 
only  man  whom  all  parties  in  England  would  alike 
obey. 

And  so,  with  flattery  as  well  as  with  truth,  she 
persuaded,  if  not  Hereward,  at  least  Torfrida,  that 
he  was  the  man  destined  to  free  England  once 
more ;  and  that  an  earldom  —  or  anything  which 
he  chose  to  ask  —  would  be  the  sure  reward  of  his 
assistance. 

"  Torfrida,"  said  Hereward,  that  night,  "  kiss 
me  well;  for  you  will  not  kiss  me  again  for  a 
while." 

"What?" 

"  I  am  going  to  England  to-morrow." 

"Alone?" 

"  Alone.  I  and  Martin  to  spy  out  the  land ; 
and  a  dozen  or  so  of  housecarles  to  take  care  of 
the  ship  in  harbor." 

"  But  you  have  promised  to  fight  the  Viscount 
of  Pinkney." 

"  I  will  be  back  again  in  time  for  him.  Not  a 
word  — I  must  go  to  England,  or  go  mad." 

"But  Countess  Gyda?  Who  will  squire  her  to 
Bruges?" 

"  You,  and  the  rest  of  my  men.  You  must  tell 
her  all.  She  has  a  woman's  heart,  and  will  under- 
stand. And  tell  Baldwin  I  shall  be  back  within 
the  month,  if  I  am  alive  on  land  or  water." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward,  the  French  will  kill 
you  !  " 

"  Not  while  I  have  your  armor  on.  Peace,  little 
fool !  Are  you  actually  afraid  for  Hereward  at 
last?" 

"  Oh,  heavens  !  when  am  I  not  afraid  for  you  ?  " 


Godwin's  Widow  Came  to  St.  Omer    291 

and  she  cried  herself  to  sleep  upon  his  bosom. 
But  she  knew  that  it  was  the  right,  and  knightly, 
and  Christian  thing  to  do. 

Two  days  after,  a  long  ship  ran  out  of  the  Aa, 
and  sailed  away  north. 


292  Genealogy 


NOTE.  —  I  give  so  much  of  the  pedigree  of  the  Countess  Gyda 
as  may  serve  to  explain  her  connection  with  the  Royal  House  of 
Denmark. 

King  HARALD  Bluetooth. 


King  SWEYN  Forkbeard.  THYRA,  m.  STYRBIORN. 

THORKILL  SPRAKALEG. 


CANUTE  the  Great.        ESTRID  —  EARL  ULF.  GYDA  —  EARL  GODWV*. 

etc. I 

K.  SWEYN.  BIORN,  ASBIORN, 

murdered  by  sa.kcd 

SWKYN  GODWINSSON,  nis  Cuusin.   Peterborough. 


SWHYN        HAROLD,       EADGITHA, 

(Outlawed),    m.  ALGITHA,    m.  EDWARD 

d.  of  AI.GAK.    the  Confessor 


LKOFWIN.   GYRTH.    GUNHILDA. 


GYDA,  TOSTIG, 

ttt.  WALDEMAR,  m.  JUDITH 

k.  of  Russia  of  Flanders. 

(from  whom  derive,  by  | 

the  Mother's  side),  1" 


(Killed  at  Hastings.) 


(A  Nun.) 


WALDEMAR  I.,                 SCULO,  KATIL  KROK, 

King  of  Denmark.         from  whom  derive  founded  a  noble 

HAKON  the  Old,  family  in 

K.  ERIC  CLIPPING.                 etc.  Halogaland. 

|  Kings  of  Norway. 

The  House  of  Oldenburg. 

The  House  of  Glucksburg. 
ALEXANDRA,  PRINCESS  OF  WALES. 

Langebek  (in  his  Scriptores  Rerum  Danicarum)  tries  ingeniously 
enough  to  rationalize  the  mythic  pedigree  of  Earl  Siward  Digre, 
by  making  the  Fairy  Bear  identical  with  Styrbiorn,  Spratling 
his  son  with  Thorkill  Sprakaleg,  and  Biorn  Bearsson,  father  of 
Siward,  a  brother  of  Earl  Ulf  and  Countess  Gyda.  But  if  so, 
Ulf  and  Gyda  would  have  been  notoriously  of  the  House  of  the 
Bear,  and  famous,  like  Siward,  for  their  pointed  ears.  Beside, 
Siward  would  thus  have  been  the  nephew  of  Countess  Gyda  and 
Earl  Godwin,  a  fact  which  is  mentioned  by  no  chronicler,  and 
which  is  inadmissible  on  account  of  Siward's  age.  His  pedigree 
is  altogether  mythical,  and  best  left  in  the  fairy-land  whence  it 
sprang. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

HOW  HEREWARD  CLEARED  BOURNE  OF 
FRENCHMEN 

IT  may  have  been  well  a  week  after,  that  Here- 
ward  came  from  the  direction  of  Boston,  with 
Martin  running  at  his  heels. 

As  Hereward  rode  along  the  summer  wold  the 
summer  sun  sank  low,  till  just  before  it  went  down 
he  came  to  an  island  of  small  enclosed  fields,  high 
banks,  elm-trees,  and  a  farm  inside ;  one  of  those 
most  ancient  holdings  of  the  southern  and  eastern 
counties,  still  to  be  distinguished,  by  their  huge 
banks  and  dykes  full  of  hedgerow  timber,  from  the 
more  modern  corn-lands  outside,  which  were  in 
Hereward's  time  mostly  common  pasture-land,  or 
rough  fen. 

"  This  should  be  Azerdun,"  said  he ;  "  and  there 
inside,  as  I  live,  stands  Azer  getting  in  his  crops. 
But  who  has  he  with  him  ?  " 

With  the  old  man  were  some  half-dozen  men  of 
his  own  rank ;  some  helping  the  serfs  with  might 
and  main ;  one  or  two  standing  on  the  top  of  the 
banks,  as  if  on  the  lookout;  but  all  armed  cap-a- 
pie. 

"  His  friends  are  helping  him  to  get  them  in," 
quoth  Martin,  "  for  fear  of  the  rascally  Frenchmen. 
A  pleasant  and  peaceable  country  we  have  come 
back  to." 


294  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  And  a  very  strong  fortress  are  they  holding," 
said  Hereward,  "  against  either  French  horsemen 
or  French  arrows.  How  to  dislodge  those  six 
fellows  without  six  times  their  number,  I  do  not 
see.  It  is  well  to  recollect  that." 

And  so  he  did;  and  turned  to  use  again  and 
again,  in  after  years,  the  strategic  capabilities  of 
an  old-fashioned  English  farm. 

Hereward  spurred  his  horse  up  to  the  nearest 
gate,  and  was  instantly  confronted  by  a  little  fair- 
haired  man,  as  broad  as  he  was  tall,  who  heaved 
up  a  long  twybill,  or  double  axe,  and  bade  him, 
across  the  gate,  go  to  a  certain  place. 

"Little  Winter,  little  Winter,  my  chuck,  my 
darling,  my  mad  fellow,  my  brother-in-arms,  my 
brother  in  robbery  and  murder,  are  you  grown  so 
honest  in  your  old  age  that  you  will  not  know  little 
Hereward  the  wolfs-head?" 

"  Hereward  !  "  shrieked  the  doughty  little  man. 
"  I  took  you  for  an  accursed  Norman  in  those  out- 
landish clothes ;  "  and  lifting  up  no  little  voice,  he 
shouted  — 

"  Hereward  is  back,  and  Martin  Lightfoot  at  his 
heels !  " 

The  gate  was  thrown  open,  and  Hereward  all 
but  pulled  off  his  horse.  He  was  clapped  on  the 
back,  turned  round  and  round,  admired  from  head 
to  foot,  shouted  at  by  old  companions  of  his  boy- 
hood, naughty  young  housecarles  of  his  old  troop, 
now  settled  down  into  honest  thriving  yeomen, 
hard  working  and  hard  fighting,  who  had  heard 
again  and  again,  with  pride,  his  doughty  doings 
over  sea.  There  was  Winter,  and  Gwenoch,  and 
Gery,  Hereward's  cousin  —  ancestor,  it  may  be,  of 
the  ancient  and  honorable  house  of  that  name,  and 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     295 

of  those  parts;  and  Duti  and  Outi,  the  two  valiant 
twins ;  and  Ulfard  the  White,  and  others,  some  of 
whose  names,  and  those  of  their  sons,  still  stand  in 
Domesday  Book. 

"And  what,"  asked  Hereward,  after  the  first 
congratulations  were  over,  "  of  my  mother?  What 
of  the  folk  at  Bourne?" 

All  looked  each  at  the  other,  and  were  silent 

"  You  are  too  late,  young  lord,"  said  Azer. 

"  Too  late." 

"  The  Frenchman  has  given  it  to  a  man  of  Gil- 
bert of  Ghent's  —  his  butler,  groom,  cook,  for 
aught  I  know." 

"  To  Gilbert's  man?    And  my  mother? " 

"  God  help  your  mother,  and  your  young  brother 
too.  She  fled  to  Bourne  awhile  ago  out  of  Shrop- 
shire. All  her  lands  in  those  parts  are  given  away 
to  Frenchmen.  Even  Coventry  Minster  was  not 
safe  for  her ;  so  hither  she  came :  but  even  here 
the  French  villains  have  found  her  out.  Three 
days  ago  some  five-and-twenty  French  marched 
into  the  place." 

"  And  you  did  not  stop  them?  " 

"Young  sir,  who  are  we  to-  stop  an  army?  We 
have  enough  to  keep  our  own.  Gilbert,  let  alone 
the  villain  Ivo  of  Spalding,  can  send  a  hundred 
men  down  on  us  in  four-and-twenty  hours." 

"  Then  I,"  said  Hereward  in  a  voice  of  thunder, 
"  will  find  the  way  to  send  two  hundred  down  on 
him ;  "  and  turning  his  horse  from  the  gate,  he 
rode  away  furiously  towards  Bourne. 

He  turned  back  as  suddenly,  and  galloped  into 
the  field. 

"  Lads  I  old  comrades !  will  you  stand  by  me  if 
I  need  you?  Will  you  follow  the  Wake,  as  hun- 


296  Hereward  the  Wake 

dreds  have  followed  him  already,  if  he  will  only  go 
before?" 

"  We  will,  we  will." 

"  I  shall  be  back  ere  morning.  What  you  have 
to  do,  I  will  tell  you  then." 

"  Stop  and  eat  —  but  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

Then  Hereward  swore  a  great  oath,  by  oak  and 
ash  and  thorn,  that  he  would  neither  eat  bread 
nor  drink  water,  while  there  was  a  Norman  left  in 
Bourne. 

"  A  little  ale,  then,  if  no  water,"  said  Azer. 

Hereward  laughed,  and  rode  away. 

"You  will  not  go  single-handed  against  all  those 
ruffians?"  shouted  the  old  man  after  him.  "Sad- 
dle, lads,  and  go  with  him,  some  of  you,  for  very 
shame's  sake." 

But  when  they  galloped  after  Hereward,  he  sent 
them  back.  He  did  not  know  yet,  he  said,  what 
he  would  do.  Better  that  they  should  gather 
their  forces,  and  see  what  men  they  could  afford 
him,  in  case  of  open  battle.  And  he  rode  swiftly 
on. 

When  he  came  within  the  lands  of  Bourne  it 
was  dark. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  thought  Hereward.  "  I 
have  no  wish  to  see  the  old  place  till  I  have  some- 
what cleaned  it  out." 

He  rode  slowly  into  the  long  street  between  the 
overhanging  gables,  past  the  cross-ways,  and  along 
the  water-gang,  and  the  high  earth-banks  of  his 
ancient  home.  Above  them  he  could  see  the 
great  hall,  its  narrow  windows  all  ablaze  with 
light.  With  a  bitter  growl  he  turned  back,  trying 
to  recollect  a  house  where  he  could  safely  lodge, 
Martin  pointed  one  out, 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     297 

"  Old  Viking  Surturbrand,  the  housecarle,  did 
live  there;  and  maybe  lives  there  still." 

"  We  will  try ;  "  and  Martin  knocked  at  the 
door. 

The  wicket  was  opened,  but  not  the  door;  and 
through  the  wicket  window  a  surly  voice  asked 
who  was  there. 

"Who  lives  here?" 

"  Pery,  son  of  Surturbrand.  Who  art  thou  who 
askest?" 

"  An  honest  gentleman  and  his  servant,  looking 
for  a  night's  lodging." 

"  This  is  no  place  for  honest  folk." 

"  As  for  that,  we  don't  wish  to  be  more  honest 
than  you  would  have  us ;  but  lodging  we  will  pay 
for,  freely  and  well." 

"  We  want  none  of  thy  money ;  "  and  the  wicket 
was  shut. 

Martin  pulled  out  his  axe,  and  drove  the  panel 
in. 

"What  art  doing?  We  shall  rouse  the  town," 
said  Hereward. 

"Let  be:  these  are  no  French,  but  honest 
English,  who  like  one  all  the  better  for  a  little 
horse-play." 

"  What  didst  do  that  for?  "  asked  the  surly  voice 
again.  "  Were  it  not  for  those  rascal  Frenchmen 
up  above,  I  would  come  out  and  split  thy  skull  for 
thee." 

"  If  there  be  Frenchmen  up  above,"  said  Martin, 
in  a  voice  of  feigned  terror,  "  take  us  in  for  the  love 
of  the  Virgin  and  all  saints,  or  murdered  we  shall 
be  ere  morning  light." 

"  Thou  hast  no  call  to  stay  in  the  town,  man, 
unless  thou  like." 


298  Hereward  the  Wake 

Hereward  rode  close  to  the  wicket,  and  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  I  am  a  nobleman  of  Flanders,  good 
sir,  and  a  sworn  foe  to  all  French.  My  horse  is 
weary,  and  cannot  make  a  step  forward ;  and  if 
thou  be  a  Christian  man,  thou  wilt  take  me  in  and 
let  me  go  off  safe  ere  morning  light." 

"From  Flanders?"  And  the  man  turned  and 
seemed  to  consult  those  within.  At  length  the 
door  was  slowly  opened,  and  Pery  appeared,  his 
double  axe  over  his  shoulder. 

"  If  thou  be  from  Flanders,  come  in  in  God's 
name :  but  be  quick,  ere  those  Frenchmen  get 
wind  of  thee." 

Hereward  went  in.  Five  or  six  men  were  stand- 
ing round  the  long  table,  upon  which  they  had 
just  laid  down  their  double  axes  and  javelins. 
More  than  one  countenance  Hereward  recognized 
at  once.  Over  the  peat  fire  sat  a  very  old  man, 
his  hands  upon  his  knees,  as  he  warmed  his 
bare  feet  at  the  embers.  He  started  up  at  the 
noise,  and  Hereward  saw  at  once  that  it  was  old 
Surturbrand,  and  that  he  was  blind. 

"Who  is  it?  Is  Hereward  come?"  asked  he, 
with  the  dull  dreamy  voice  of  age. 

"  Not  Hereward,  father,"  said  some  one,  "  but  a 
knight  from  Flanders." 

The  old  man  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast 
again  with  a  querulous  whine,  while  Hereward's 
heart  beat  high  at  hearing  his  own  name.  At  all 
events  he  was  among  friends ;  and  approaching 
the  table  he  unbuckled  his  sword  and  laid  it  down 
among  the  other  weapons.  "  At  least,"  said  he, 
"  I  shall  have  no  need  of  thee  as  long  as  I  am  here 
among  honest  men." 

"What  shall   I  do  with   my  master's   horse?" 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     299 

asked  Martin.  "  He  can't  stand  in  the  street  to 
be  stolen  by  drunken  French  horseboys." 

"  Bring  him  in  at  the  front  door,  and  out  at  the 
back,"  said  Pery.  "  Fine  times  these,  when  a  man 
dare  not  open  his  own  yard-gate." 

"  You  seem  to  be  all  besieged  here,"  said 
Hereward.  "  How  is  this?  " 

"Besieged  we  are,"  said  the  man;  and  then, 
partly  to  turn  the  subject  off,  "  Will  it  please  you 
to  eat,  noble  sir?" 

Hereward  declined ;  he  had  a  vow,  he  said,  not 
to  eat  or  drink  but  once  a  day,  till  he  had  fulfilled 
a  quest  whereon  he  was  bound.  His  hosts  eyed 
him,  not  without  some  lingering  suspicion,  but 
still  with  admiration  and  respect.  His  splendid 
armor  and  weapons,  as  well  as  the  golden  locks 
which  fell  far  below  his  shoulders,  and  conven- 
iently hid  a  face  which  he  did  not  wish  yet  to  have 
recognized,  showed  him  to  be  a  man  of  the  high- 
est rank ;  while  the  palm  of  his  small  hand,  as 
hard  and  bony  as  any  woodman's,  proclaimed  him 
to  be  no  novice  of  a  fighting  man.  The  strong 
Flemish  accent  which  both  he  and  Martin  Light- 
foot  had  assumed  prevented  the  honest  English- 
men from  piercing  his  disguise.  They  watched 
him,  while  he  in  turn  watched  them,  struck  by 
their  uneasy  looks  and  sullen  silence. 

"  We  are  a  dull  company,"  said  he  after  a  while, 
courteously  enough.  "  We  used  to  be  told  in 
Flanders  that  there  were  none  such  stout  drinkers 
and  none  such  jolly  singers  as  you  gallant  men  of 
the  Danelagh  here." 

"  Dull  times  make  dull  company,"  said  one, 
"  and  no  offence  to  you,  sir  knight" 

"Are  you  such  a  stranger,"  asked  Pery,  "  that 


300  Hereward  the  Wake 

you  do  not  know  what  has  happened  in  this  town 
during  the  last  three  days?" 

"  No  good  I  will  warrant  if  you  have  Frenchmen 
in  it." 

"  Why  was  not  Hereward  here  ? "  wailed  the 
old  man  in  the  corner.  "  It  never  would  have 
happened  if  he  had  been  in  the  town." 

"What?"  asked  Hereward,  trying  to  command 
himself. 

"  What  has  happened,"  said  Pery,  "  makes  a 
free  Englishman's  blood  boil  to  tell  of.  Here,  sir 
knight,  three  days  ago,  comes  in  this  Frenchman 
with  some  twenty  ruffians  of  his  own,  and  more  of 
one  Taillebois',  too,  to  see  him  safe ;  says  that  this 
new  king,  this  base-born  Frenchman,  has  given 
away  all  Earl  Morcar's  lands,  and  that  Bourne  is 
his ;  kills  a  man  or  two ;  upsets  the  women ;  gets 
drunk,  ruffles  and  roisters ;  breaks  into  my  lady's 
bower,  calling  her  to  give  up  her  keys ;  and  when 
she  gives  them,  will  have  all  her  jewels  too.  She 
faces  the  rogues  like  a  brave  princess ;  and  two  of 
the  hounds  lay  hold  of  her,  and  say  that  she  shall 
ride  through  Bourne  as  she  rode  through  Cov- 
entry. The  boy  Godwin  —  he  that  was  the  great 
earl's  godson,  our  last  hope,  the  last  of  our  house 
—  draws  sword  on  them ;  and  he,  a  boy  of  sixteen 
summers,  kills  them  both  out  of  hand.  The  rest  set 
on  him,  cut  his  head  off,  and  there  it  sticks  on  the 
gable  spike  of  the  hall  to  this  hour.  And  do  you  ask, 
after  that,  why  free  Englishmen  are  dull  company?  " 

*'  And  our  turn  will  come  next,"  growled  some 
one.  "  The  turn  will  go  all  round ;  no  man's  life 
or  land,  wife  or  daughters,  will  be  safe  soon  for 
these  accursed  Frenchmen,  unless,  as  the  old  man 
says,  Hereward  comes  back." 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     301 

Once  again  the  old  man  wailed  out  of  the  chim- 
ney-corner :  "  Why  did  they  ever  send  Hereward 
away?  I  warned  the  good  earl,  I  warned  my 
good  lady,  many  a  time,  to  let  him  sow  his  wild 
oats  and  be  done  with  them,  or  they  might  need 
him  some  day  when  they  could  not  find  him.  He 
was  a  lad  !  He  was  a  lad  !  "  and  again  he  whined, 
and  sank  into  silence. 

Hereward  heard  all  this  dry-eyed,  hardening  his 
heart  into  a  great  resolve. 

"  This  is  a  dark  story,"  said  he,  calmly,  "  and 
it  would  behove  me  as  a  gentleman  to  succor  this 
distressed  lady,  did  I  but  know  how.  Tell  me 
what  I  can  do  now,  and  I  will  do  it." 

"  Your  health  !  "  cried  one.  "  You  speak  like  a 
true  knight." 

"  And  he  looks  the  man  to  keep  his  word,  I  '11 
warrant  him,"  spoke  another. 

"  He  does,"  said  Pery,  shaking  his  head :  "  never- 
theless, if  anything  could  have  been  done,  sir,  be 
sure  we  would  have  done  it:  but  all  our  armed 
men  are  scattered  up  and  down  the  country,  each 
taking  care,  as  is  natural,  of  his  own  cattle  and  his 
own  women.  There  are  not  ten  men-at-arms  in 
Bourne  this  night ;  and  what  is  worse,  sir,  as  you 
may  guess,  who  seem  to  have  known  war  as  well 
as  I,  there  is  no  man  to  lead  them." 

Here  Hereward  was  on  the  point  of  saying, 
"And  what  if  I  led  you?"  —  on  the  point,  too,  of 
discovering  himself:  but  he  stopped  short. 

Was  it  fair  to  involve  this  little  knot  of  gallant 
fellows  in  what  might  be  a  hopeless  struggle,  and 
to  have  all  Bourne  burned  over  their  heads  ere 
morning  by  the  ruffian  Frenchmen?  No;  his 
mother's  quarrel  was  his  own  private  quarrel.  He 


302  Hereward  the  Wake 

would  go  alone  and  see  the  strength  of  the  enemy; 
and  after  that,  maybe,  he  would  raise  the  country 
on  them:  or  —  and  half-a-dozen  plans  suggested 
themselves  to  his  crafty  brain  as  he  sat  brooding  and 
scheming :  then,  as  always,  utterly  self-confident. 

He  was  startled  by  a  burst  of  noise  outside  — 
music,  laughter,  and  shouts. 

"  There,"  said  Pery,  bitterly,  "  are  those  French- 
men, dancing  and  singing  in  the  hall,  with  my 
Lord  Godwin's  head  above  them  !  "  And  curses 
bitter  and  deep  went  round  the  room.  They  sat 
sullen  and  silent  it  may  be  for  an  hour  or  more : 
only  moving  when,  at  some  fresh  outbreak  of 
revelry,  the  old  man  started  from  his  doze  and 
asked  if  that  was  Hereward  coming. 

"And  who  is  this  Hereward  of  whom  you 
speak?"  said  Hereward,  at  last. 

"  We  thought  you  might  know  him,  sir  knight, 
if  you  come  from  Flanders,  as  you  say  you  do," 
said  three  or  four  voices  in  a  surprised  and  surly 
tone. 

"  Certainly  I  know  such  a  man ;  if  he  be  Here- 
ward the  wolfs  head,  Hereward  the  outlaw, 
Hereward  the  Wake,  as  they  call  him.  And  a 
good  soldier  he  is,  though  he  be  not  yet  made  a 
knight ;  and  married,  too,  to  a  rich  and  fair  lady. 
I  served  under  this  Hereward  a  few  months  ago  in 
the  Zeeland  War,  and  know  no  man  whom  I  would 
sooner  follow." 

"  Nor  I,  neither,"  chimed  in  Martin  Lightfoot 
from  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

"  Nor  we,"  cried  all  the  men-at-arms  at  once, 
each  vying  with  the  other  in  extravagant  stories  of 
their  hero's  prowess,  and  in  asking  the  knight  of 
Flanders  whether  they  were  true  or  not. 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     303 

To  avoid  offending  them,  Hereward  was  forced 
to  confess  to  a  great  many  deeds  which  he  had 
never  done ;  but  he  was  right  glad  to  find  that  his 
fame  had  reached  his  native  place,  and  that  he 
could  count  on  the  men  if  he  needed  them. 

"  But  who  is  this  Hereward,"  said  he,  "  that  he 
should  have  to  do  with  your  town  here?" 

Half-a-dozen  voices  at  once  told  him  his  own 
story. 

"  I  always  heard,"  said  he,  dryly,  "  that  that  gen- 
tleman was  of  some  very  noble  kin ;  and  I  will 
surely  tell  him  all  that  has  befallen  here  as  soon  as 
I  return  to  Flanders." 

At  last  they  grew  sleepy.  The  men  went  out 
and  brought  in  bundles  of  sweet  sedge,  spread 
them  against  the  wall,  and  prepared  to  lie  down, 
each  with  his  weapon  by  his  side.  But  when  they 
were  lain  down,  Hereward  beckoned  to  him  Pery 
and  Martin  Lightfoot,  and  went  out  into  the  back 
yard,  under  the  pretence  of  seeing  to  his  horse. 

"  Pery  Surturbrandsson,"  said  he,  "  thou  seemest 
to  be  an  honest  man,  as  we  in  foreign  parts  hold 
all  the  Danelagh  folk  to  be.  Now  it  is  fixed  in  my 
mind  to  go  up,  and  my  servant  with  me,  to  yon 
hall,  and  see  what  those  French  upstarts  are  about. 
Wilt  thou  trust  me  to  go,  without  my  fleeing  back 
here  if  I  am  found  out,  or  in  any  way  bringing 
thee  to  harm  by  mixing  thee  up  in  my  private 
matters?  And  wilt  thou,  if  I  do  not  come  back, 
keep  for  thine  own  the  horse  which  is  in  thy  stable, 
and  give  moreover  this  purse  and  this  ring  to  thy 
lady,  if  thou  canst  find  means  to  see  her  face  to 
face ;  and  say  thus  to  her  —  that  he  that  sent  that 
purse  and  ring  may  be  found  if  he  be  alive,  at  St. 
Omer,  or  with  Baldwin  Marquis  of  Flanders ;  and 


304  Hereward  the  Wake 

that  if  he  be  dead  (as  he  is  like  enough  to  be,  his 
trade  being  naught  but  war),  she  will  still  find  at 
St.  Omer  a  home  and  wealth  and  friends,  till  these 
evil  times  be  overpast?" 

As  Hereward  had  spoken  with  some  slight 
emotion,  he  had  dropped  unawares  his  assumed 
Flemish  accent,  and  had  spoken  in  broad  burly 
Lincolnshire ;  and  therefore  it  was  that  Pery,  who 
had  been  staring  at  him  by  the  moonlight  all  the 
while,  said,  when  he  was  done,  tremblingly  — 

"  Either  you  are  Hereward,  or  you  are  his 
double-ganger.  You  speak  like  Hereward,  you 
look  like  Hereward.  Just  what  Hereward  would 
be  now,  you  are.  You  are,  my  lord,  whom  men 
call  Wake ;  and  you  cannot  deny  it." 

"  Pery,  if  thou  knowest  me,  speak  of  me  to  no 
living  soul,  save  to  thy  lady  my  mother ;  and  let 
me  and  my  serving  man  go  free  out  of  thy  yard- 
gate.  If  I  ask  thee  before  morning  to  open  it  again 
to  me,  thou  wilt  know  that  there  is  not  a  French- 
man left  in  the  Hall  of  Bourne." 

Pery  threw  his  arms  round  him,  and  embraced 
him  silently. 

"  Get  me  only,"  said  Hereward,  "  some  long 
woman's  gear  and  black  mantle,  if  thou  canst,  to 
cover  this  bright  armor  of  mine." 

Pery  went  off  in  silence  as  one  stunned ;  brought 
the  mantle;  and  let  them  out  of  the  yard-gate. 
In  ten  minutes  more,  the  two  had  waded  the 
water-gang,  scrambled  the  dyke  and  its  palisade, 
and  stood  under  the  gable  of  the  great  hall.  Not 
a  soul  was  stirring  outside.  The  serfs  were  all 
cowering  in  their  huts  like  so  many  rabbits  in  their 
burrows,  listening  in  fear  to  the  revelry  of  their 
new  tyrants.  The  night  was  dark;  but  not  so 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     305 

dark  but  that  Hereward  could  see  between  him  and 
the  sky  his  brother's  long  locks  floating  in  the  breeze. 

"  That  I  must  have  down,  at  least,"  said  he,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  Then  here  is  wherewithal,"  said  Martin  Light- 
foot,  as  he  stumbled  over  something.  "  The 
drunken  villains  have  left  the  ladder  in  the  yard." 

Hereward  raised  the  ladder,  took  down  the  head, 
and  wrapped  it  in  the  cloak ;  and  ere  he  did  so,  he 
kissed  the  cold  forehead.  How  he  had  hated  that 
boy !  Well,  at  least  he  had  never  wilfully  harmed 
him  —  or  the  boy  him,  either,  for  that  matter. 
And  now  he  had  died  like  a  man,  killing  his  foe.  He 
was  of  the  true  old  blood,  after  all.  And  Hereward 
felt  that  he  would  have  given  all  that  he  had,  save 
his  wife  or  his  sword-hand,  to  have  that  boy  alive 
again,  to  pet  him,  and  train  him,  and  teach  him  to 
fight  at  his  side. 

Then  he  slipped  round  to  one  of  the  narrow 
unshuttered  windows  and  looked  in.  The  hall  was 
in  a  wasteful  blaze  of  light ;  a  whole  month's  can- 
dles burning  in  one  night.  The  table  was  covered 
with  all  his  father's  choicest  plate ;  the  wine  was 
running  waste  upon  the  floor ;  the  men  were  lolling 
at  the  table  in  every  stage  of  drunkenness;  the 
loose  women,  camp-followers  and  such  like,  were 
almost  as  drunk  as  their  masters ;  and  at  the  table- 
head,  most  drunk  of  all,  sat,  in  Earl  Leofric's  seat, 
the  new  Lord  of  Bourne. 

Hereward  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes.  He  was 
none  other  than  Gilbert  of  Ghent's  stout  Flemish 
cook,  whom  he  had  seen  many  a  time  in  Scotland. 
Hereward  turned  from  the  window  in  disgust:  but 
looked  again  as  he  heard  words  which  roused  his 
wrath  still  more. 

Vol.  12— N 


306  Hereward  the  Wake 

For  in  the  open  space  nearest  the  door  stood  a 
gleeman,  a  dancing,  harping,  foul-mouthed  fellow, 
who  was  showing  off  ape's  tricks,  jesting  against 
the  English  short  coats  —  a  continual  source  of 
insult  among  the  long-robed  French  —  and  shuf- 
fling about  in  mockeries  of  English  dancing.  At 
some  particularly  coarse  jest  of  his,  the  new  Lord 
of  Bourne  burst  into  a  roar  of  admiration. 

"  Ask  what  thou  wilt,  fellow,  and  thou  shalt  have 
it.  Thou  wilt  find  me  a  better  master  to  thee  than 
ever  was  Morcar  the  English  barbarian." 

The  scoundrel,  say  the  old  chroniclers,  made  a 
request  concerning  Hereward's  family  which  cannot 
be  printed  here. 

Hereward  ground  his  teeth.  "  If  thou  livest  till 
morning  light,"  said  he,  "  I  will  not." 

The  last  brutality  awoke  some  better  feeling  in 
one  of  the  girls  —  a  large  coarse  Fleming,  who  sat 
by  the  new  lord's  side.  "  Fine  words,"  said  she, 
scornfully  enough,  "  for  the  sweepings  of  Norman 
and  Flemish  kennels.  You  forget  that  you  left 
one  of  this  very  Leofric's  sons  behind  in  Flanders, 
who  would  besom  you  all  out  if  he  was  here  before 
the  morning's  dawn." 

"  Hereward?  "  cried  the  cook,  striking  her  down 
with  a  drunken  blow ;  "  the  scoundrel  who  stole 
the  money  which  the  Frisians  sent  to  Count 
Baldwin,  and  gave  it  to  his  own  troops  ?  We  are 
safe  enough  from  him,  at  all  events ;  he  dare  not 
show  his  face  on  this  side  the  Alps,  for  fear  of  the 
gallows." 

Hereward  had  heard  enough.     He  slipped  down 
from  the  window  to  Martin,  and  led  him  round  the 
house. 
'   "Now,  then,  down  with  the  ladder  quick,  and 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     307 

dash  in  the  door.  I  go  in :  stay  thou  outside.  If 
any  man  passes  me,  see  that  he  pass  not  thee." 

Martin  chuckled  a  ghostly  laugh  as  he  helped 
the  ladder  down.  In  another  moment  the  door 
was  burst  in,  and  Hereward  stood  upon  the 
threshold.  He  gave  one  war-shout  of —  A  Wake ! 
A  Wake  !  and  then  rushed  forward.  As  he  passed 
the  gleeman,  he  gave  him  one  stroke  across  the 
loins;  the  wretch  fell  shrieking. 

And  then  began  a  murder  grim  and  great.  They 
fought  with  ale-cups,  with  knives,  with  benches: 
but  drunken  and  unarmed,  they  were  hewn  down 
like  sheep.  Fifteen  Normans,  says  the  chronicler 
(who  gives  minute  details  of  the  whole  scene), 
were  in  the  hall  when  Hereward  burst  in.  When 
the  sun  rose  there  were  fifteen  heads  upon  the 
gable.  Escape  had  been  impossible.  Martin  had 
laid  the  ladder  across  the  door ;  and  the  few  who 
escaped  the  master's  terrible  sword,  stumbled  over 
it,  to  be  brained  by  the  man's  not  less  terrible  axe. 

Then  Hereward  took  up  his  brother's  head,  and 
went  in  to  his  mother. 

The  women  in  the  bower  opened  to  him.  They 
had  seen  all  that  passed  from  the  gallery  above, 
which,  as  usual,  hidden  by  a  curtain,  enabled  the 
women  to  watch  unseen  what  passed  in  the  hall 
below. 

The  Lady  Godiva  sat  crouched  together,  all  but 
alone  —  for  her  bower-maidens  had  fled  or  been 
carried  off  long  since — upon  a  low  stool  beside  a 
long  dark  thing  covered  with  a  pall.  So  utterly 
crushed  was  she,  that  she  did  not  even  lift  up  her 
head  as  Hereward  entered. 

He  placed  his  ghastly  burden  reverently  beneath 
the  pall,  and  then  went  and  knelt  before  his  mother. 


308  Hereward  the  Wake 

For  a  while  neither  spoke  a  word.  Then  the 
Lady  Godiva  suddenly  drew  back  her  hood,  and 
dropping  on  her  knees,  threw  her  arms  round 
Hereward's  neck,  and  wept  till  she  could  weep  no 
more. 

"Blessed  strong  arms,"  sobbed  she  at  last, 
"  around  me  !  To  feel  something  left  in  the  world 
to  protect  me ;  something  left  in  the  world  whict 
loves  me." 

"You  forgive  me,  mother?" 

"  You  forgive  me  ?  It  was  I  —  I  who  was  in  fault 
•—  I,  who  should  have  cherished  you,  my  strongest, 
my  bravest,  my  noblest  —  now  my  all." 

"  No,  it  was  all  my  fault ;  and  on  my  head  is  all 
this  misery.  If  I  had  been  here,  as  I  ought  to 
have  been,  all  this  might  have  never  happened." 

"  You  would  only  have  been  murdered  too. 
No :  thank  God,  you  were  away ;  or  God  would 
have  taken  you  with  the  rest.  His  arm  is  bared 
against  me,  and  His  face  turned  away  from  me. 
All  in  vain,  in  vain !  Vain  to  have  washed  my 
hands  in  innocency,  and  worshipped  Him  night 
and  day.  Vain  to  have  builded  minsters  to  His 
honor,  and  heaped  the  shrines  of  His  saints  with 
gold.  Vain  to  have  fed  the  hungry,  and  clothed 
the  naked,  and  washed  the  feet  of  His  poor,  that  I 
might  atone  for  my  own  sins,  and  the  sins  of  my 
house.  This  is  His  answer.  He  has  taken  me 
up,  and  dashed  me  down :  and  naught  is  left,  but, 
like  Job,  to  abhor  myself  and  repent  in  dust  and 
ashes  —  of,  I  know  not  what  —  I  know  not  what 
—  I  know  not  what  —  unless  it  be  that  poor  Algar 
held  some  Church  lands ;  I  forget  where  they  are, 
now,  though  I  warned  him  often  of  them.  My 
brains  are  broken,  good  saints.  I  forget  —  would 


He  Cleared  Bourne  of  Frenchmen     309 

that  I  could  forget  more  —  and  poor  Morcar  held 
them  till  this  ruin.  Is  it  that,  Hereward?  The 
father  takes  God's  lands ;  the  son  will  not  restore 
them:  a  dark  crime — who  shall  atone  for  that? 
—  though  it  is  but  a  few  acres — a  few  acres  — 
after  all " 

And  so  she  sobbed  on,  like  any  child. 

"  We  will  make  them  up,  mother,  we  will  make 
them  up  twice  over.  But  never  say  that  God  has 
deserted  you.  See,  He  has  sent  you  me !  "  said 
Hereward,  wondering  to  find  himself,  of  all  men  on 
earth,  preaching  consolation. 

"  Yes,  I  have  you  !  Hold  me.  Love  me.  Let 
me  feel  that  one  thing  loves  me  upon  earth.  I 
want  love ;  I  must  have  it :  and  if  God,  and  His 
mother,  and  all  the  saints,  refuse  their  love,  I 
must  turn  to  the  creature,  and  ask  it  to  love  me, 
but  for  a  day." 

"Forever,  mother." 

"You  will  not  leave  me?" 

"  If  I  do,  I  come  back,  to  finish  what  I  have 
begun." 

"  More  blood  ?  Oh  God  !  Hereward,  not  that ! 
Let  us  return  good  for  evil.  Let  us  take  up  our 
crosses.  Let  us  bear  our  sin.  Let  us  humble  our- 
selves under  God's  hand,  and  flee  into  some  con- 
vent, and  there  die  praying  for  our  country  and 
our  kin." 

"  Men  must  watch  while  women  pray.  I  will 
take  you  to  a  minster  —  to  Peterborough." 

"  No,  not  to  Peterborough  — 

"  But  my  Uncle  Brand  is  abbot  there,  they  tell 
me,  now  this  four  years ;  and  that  rogue  Herluin 
prior  in  his  place." 

"  Brand  is  dying :  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  like 


310  Hereward  the  Wake 

me.  The  Frenchman  has  given  his  abbey  to  one 
Thorold,  the  tyrant  of  Malmesbury  —  a  French- 
man like  himself.  No,  take  me  where  I  shall 
never  see  a  French  face.  Take  me  to  Crowland 
—  and  him  with  me  —  where  I  shall  see  naught 
but  English  faces,  and  hear  English  chants,  and 
die  a  free  Englishwoman  under  St.  Guthlac's 
wings." 

"Ah!  "  said  Hereward,  bitterly,  "St.  Guthlac  is 
a  right  Englishman,  and  will  have  some  sort  of 
fellow-feeling  for  us ;  while  St.  Peter,  of  course,  is 
somewhat  too  fond  of  Rome  and  those  Italian 
monks.  Well  —  blood  is  thicker  than  water ;  so 
I  hardly  blame  the  blessed  apostle." 

"Do  not  talk  so,  Hereward." 

"  Much  the  saints  have  done  for  us,  mother,  that 
we  are  to  be  so  very  respectful  to  their  high  mighti- 
nesses. I  fear  that,  if  this  Frenchman  goes  on 
with  his  plan  of  thrusting  his  monks  into  our  abbeys, 
I  shall  have  to  do  more  even  for  St.  Guthlac  than 
ever  he  did  for  me.  Do  not  say  more,  mother. 
This  night  has  made  Hereward  a  new  man.  Now 
prepare  "  — and  she  knew  what  he  meant —  "  and 
gather  all  your  treasures;  and  we  will  start  for 
Crowland  to-morrow  afternoon." 


CHAPTER  XX 

HOW    HEREWARD    WAS    MADE    A    KNIGHT  AFTER 
THE  FASHION   OF  THE  ENGLISH 

A  WILD  night  was  that  in  Bourne.  All  the 
folk,  free  and  unfree,  man  and  woman,  were 
out  on  the  streets  asking  the  meaning  of  those 
terrible  shrieks,  followed  by  a  more  terrible  silence. 

At  last  Hereward  strode  down  from  the  hall,  his 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 

"  Silence,  good  folks,  and  hearken  to  me,  once 
and  for  all.  There  is  not  a  Frenchman  left  alive 
in  Bourne.  If  you  be  the  men  I  take  you  for,  there 
shall  not  be  one  left  alive  between  Wash  and  Hum- 
ber.  Silence,  again!" — as  a  fierce  cry  of  rage 
and  joy  arose,  and  men  rushed  forward  to  take  him 
by  the  hand,  women  to  embrace  him.  "  This  is  no 
time  for  compliments,  good  folks,  but  for  quick  wit 
and  quick  blows.  For  the  law  we  fight,  if  we  do 
fight ;  and  by  the  law  we  must  work,  fight  or  not 
Where  is  the  lawman  of  the  town  ?  " 

"  I  was  lawman  last  night,  to  see  such  law  done 
as  there  is  left,"  said  Pery.  "  But  you  are  lawman 
now.  Do  as  you  will.  We  will  obey  you." 

"  You  shall  be  our  lawman,"  shouted  many  voices. 

"I?  Who  am  I?  Out-of-law,  and  a  wolfs 
head." 

"  We  will  put  you  back  into  your  law,  —  we  will 
give  you  your  lands  in  full  husting." 


312  Hereward  the  Wake 

"  Never  mind  a  husting  on  my  behalf.  Let  us 
have  a  husting,  if  we  have  one,  for  a  better  end  and 
a  bigger  than  that.  Now,  men  of  Bourne,  I  have 
put  the  coal  in  the  bush.  Dare  you  blow  the  fire 
till  the  forest  is  aflame  from  south  to  north?  I 
have  fought  a  dozen  of  Frenchmen.  Dare  you  fight 
Taillebois  and  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  with  William 
Duke  of  Normandy  at  their  back?  Or  will  you 
take  me,  here  as  I  stand,  and  give  me  up  to  them 
as  an  outlaw  and  a  robber,  to  feed  the  crows  out- 
side the  gates  of  Lincoln  ?  Do  it,  if  you  will.  It 
will  be  the  wiser  plan,  my  friends.  Give  me  up  to 
be  judged  and  hanged ;  and  so  purge  yourselves 
of  the  villainous  murder  of  Gilbert's  cook  —  your 
late  lord  and  master." 

"  Lord  and  master  !  We  are  free  men  !  "  shouted 
the  holders,  or  yeomen  gentlemen.  "  We  hold  our 
lands  from  God  and  the  sun." 

"  You  are  our  lord,"  shouted  the  socmen,  or 
tenants.  "  Who  but  you  ?  We  will  follow,  if  you 
will  lead ! " 

"  Hereward  is  come  home !  "  cried  a  feeble  voice 
behind.  "  Let  me  come  to  him.  Let  me  feel  him." 

And  through  the  crowd,  supported  by  two  ladies, 
tottered  the  mighty  form  of  Surturbrand  the  blind 
Viking. 

"  Hereward  is  come,"  cried  he,  as  he  folded  his 
master's  son  in  his  arms.  "  Ahoi !  he  is  wet  with 
blood  !  Ahoi !  he  smells  of  blood  !  Ahoi !  the 
ravens  will  grow  fat  now,  for  Hereward  is  come 
home!" 

Some  would  have  led  the  old  man  away :  but  he 
thrust  them  off  fiercely. 

"  Ahoi !  come  wolf!  Ahoi !  come  kite  !  Ahoi ! 
come  erne  from  off  the  fen !  You  followed  us,  and 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    313 

we  fed  you  well,  when  Swend  Forkbeard  brought 
us  over  the  sea.  Follow  us  now,  and  we  will  feed 
you  better  still,  with  the  mongrel  Frenchers  who 
scoff  at  the  tongue  of  their  forefathers,  and  would 
rob  their  nearest  kinsman  of  land  and  lass.  Ahoi ! 
Swend's  men  !  Ahoi !  Canute's  men  !  Vikings' 
sons,  sea-cocks'  sons,  Berserkers'  sons  all !  Split 
up  the  war-arrow,  and  send  it  round :  and  the 
curse  of  Odin  on  every  man  that  will  not  pass  it 
on!  A  war-king  to-morrow,  and  Hildur's  game 
next  day,  that  the  old  Surturbrand  may  fall  like  a 
freeholder,  axe  in  hand,  and  not  die  like  a  cow  in 
the  straw  which  the  Frenchman  has  spared  him." 

All  men  were  silent,  as  the  old  Viking's  voice, 
cracked  and  feeble  when  he  began,  gathered 
strength  from  rage,  till  it  rang  through  the  still 
night  air  like  a  trumpet  blast 

The  silence  was  broken  by  a  long  wild  cry  from 
the  forest,  which  made  the  women  start,  and  catch 
their  children  closer  to  them.  It  was  the  howl  of 
a  wolf. 

"  Hark  to  the  witch's  horse !  Hark  to  the  son 
of  Fenris,  how  he  calls  for  meat !  Are  ye  your 
fathers'  sons,  ye  men  of  Bourne?  They  never  let 
the  gray  beast  call  in  vain." 

Hereward  saw  his  opportunity,  and  seized  it. 
He  well  knew  that  there  were  those  in  the  crowd, 
as  there  must  needs  be  in  all  crowds,  who  wished 
themselves  well  out  of  the  business ;  who  shrank 
from  the  thought  of  facing  the  Norman  barons, 
much  more  the  Norman  king;  who  were  ready 
enough,  had  the  tide  of  feeling  begun  to  ebb,  to 
blame  Hereward  for  rashness,  even  though  they 
might  not  have  gone  so  far  as  to  give  him  up  to 
the  Normans ;  who  would  have  advised  some  sort 


314  Hereward  the  Wake 

of  compromise,  pacifying  half-measure,  or  other 
weak  plan  for  escaping  present  danger  by  future 
destruction.  But  three  out  of  four  there  were  good 
men  and  true.  The  savage  chant  of  the  old  bar- 
barian might  have  startled  them  somewhat,  for 
they  were  tolerably  orthodox  Christian  folk.  But 
there  was  sense,  as  well  as  spirit,  in  his  savageness ; 
and  they  growled  applause  as  he  ceased.  Here- 
ward  heard,  and  cried : 

"  The  Viking  is  right !  So  speaks  the  spirit  of 
our  fathers;  and  we  must  show  ourselves  their 
true  sons.  Send  round  the  war-arrow,  and  death 
to  the  man  who  does  not  pass  it  on !  Better  die 
bravely  together  than  falter  and  part  company,  to 
be  hunted  down  one  by  one  by  men  who  will 
never  forgive  us  as  long  as  we  have  an  acre  of  land 
for  them  to  seize.  Pery,  son  of  Surturbrand,  you 
are  the  lawman,  put  it  to  the  vote !  " 

"  Send  round  the  war-arrow,"  shouted  Pery 
himself;  and  if  there  was  a  man  or  two  who 
shrank  from  the  proposal,  they  found  it  prudent 
to  shout  as  loudly  as  did  the  rest. 

Ere  the  morning  light,  the  war-arrow  was  split 
into  four  splinters,  and  carried  out  to  the  four  airts, 
through  all  Kesteven.  If  the  splinter  were  put 
into  the  house-father's  hand,  he  must  send  it  on 
at  once  to  the  next  freeman's  house.  If  he  were 
away,  it  was  stuck  into  his  house-door,  or  into  his 
great  chair  by  the  fireside,  and  woe  to  him  if,  on 
his  return,  he  sent  it  not  on  likewise.  All  through 
Kesteven  went  that  night  the  arrow-splinters,  and 
with  them  the  whisper,  "  The  Wake  is  come  again ;  " 
till,  before  midday,  there  were  fifty  well-armed  men 
in  the  old  camping-field  outside  the  town,  and 
Hereward  haranguing  them  in  words  of  fire. 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    3 1 5 

A  chill  came  over  them,  nevertheless,  when  he 
told  them  that  he  must  at  once  return  to  Flanders. 

"But  it  must  be,"  he  said.  He  had  promised 
his  good  lord  and  sovereign,  Baldwin  of  Flanders, 
and  his  word  of  honor  he  must  keep.  Two  visits 
he  must  pay  ere  he  went;  and  then  to  sea.  But 
within  the  year,  if  he  were  alive  on  ground,  he 
would  return,  and  with  him  ships  and  men,  it 
might  be  with  Sweyn  and  all  the  power  of  Den- 
mark. Only  let  them  hold  their  own  till  the  Danes 
should  come,  and  all  would  be  well.  So  would 
they  show  that  they  were  free  Englishmen,  able 
to  hold  England  against  Frenchmen  and  all  stran- 
gers. And  whenever  he  came  back  he  would  set 
a  light  to  Toft,  Manthorpe,  and  Witham-on-the- 
hill.  They  were  his  own  farms,  or  should  have 
been ;  and  better  they  should  burn  than  French- 
men hold  them.  They  could  be  seen  far  and  wide 
over  the  Bruneswold  and  over  all  the  fen ;  and 
then  all  men  might  know  for  sure  that  the  Wake 
was  come  again. 

"  And  nine-and-forty  of  them,"  says  the  chron- 
icler, "  he  chose  to  guard  Bourne  "  (seemingly  the 
lands  which  had  been  his  nephew  Morcar's),  till 
he  should  come  back  and  take  them  for  himself. 
His  own  lands,  of  Witham,  Toft,  and  Manthorpe, 
Gery  his  cousin  should  hold  till  his  return ;  and 
they  should  send  what  they  could  off  them  to  Lady 
Godiva  at  Crowland. 

Then  they  went  down  to  the  water  and  took 
barge,  and  laid  the  corpse  therein ;  and  Godiva 
and  Hereward  sat  at  the  dead  lad's  head ;  and 
Winter  steered  the  boat,  and  Gwenoch  took  the 
stroke-oar. 

And  they  rowed  away  for  Crowland,  by  many  a 


316  Hereward  the  Wake 

mere  and  many  an  ea ;  through  narrow  reaches  of 
clear  brown  glassy  water ;  between  the  dark-green 
alders ;  between  the  pale-green  reeds ;  where  the 
coot  clanked,  and  the  bittern  boomed,  and  the 
sedge-bird,  not  content  with  its  own  sweet  song, 
mocked  the  notes  of  all  the  birds  around ;  and 
then  out  into  the  broad  lagoons,  where  hung  mo- 
tionless, high  overhead,  hawk  beyond  hawk,  buz- 
zard beyond  buzzard,  kite  beyond  kite,  as  far  as 
eye  could  see.  Into  the  air,  as  they  rowed  on, 
whirred  up  great  skeins  of  wild  fowl  innumerable, 
with  a  cry  as  of  all  the  bells  of  Crowland,  or  all 
the  hounds  of  the  Bruneswold ;  while  clear  above 
all  their  noise  sounded  the  wild  whistle  of  the  cur- 
lews, and  the  trumpet  note  of  the  great  white 
swan.  Out  of  the  reeds,  like  an  arrow,  shot  the 
peregrine,  singled  one  luckless  mallard  from  the 
flock,  caught  him  up,  struck  him  stone  dead  with 
one  blow  of  his  terrible  heel,  and  swept  his  prey 
with  him  into  the  reeds  again. 

"  Death !  death  !  death  !  "  said  Lady  Godiva,  as 
the  feathers  fluttered  down  into  the  boat  and  rested 
on  the  dead  boy's  pall  "  War  among  man  and 
beast ;  war  on  earth ;  war  in  air ;  war  in  the  water 
beneath"  as  a  great  pike  rolled  at  his  bait,  sending 
a  shoal  of  white  fish  flying  along  the  surface. 
"  And  war,  says  holy  writ,  in  heaven  above.  Oh, 
Thou  who  didst  die  to  destroy  death,  when  will  it 
all  be  over?  " 

And  thus  they  glided  on  from  stream  to  stream, 
until  they  came  to  the  sacred  isle  of "  the  inheri- 
tance of  the  Lord,  the  soil  of  St.  Mary  and  St 
Bartholomew;  the  most  holy  sanctuary  of  St. 
Guthlac  and  his  monks;  the  minster  most  free 
from  worldly  servitude;  the  special  almshouse  of 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    3 1 7 

the  most  illustrious  kings ;  the  sole  place  of  refuge 
for  any  one  in  all  tribulations :  the  perpetual  abode 
of  the  saints;  the  possession  of  religious  men, 
especially  set  apart  by  the  Common  Council  of  the 
kingdom ;  by  reason  of  the  frequent  miracles  of 
the  most  holy  Confessor,  an  ever  fruitful  mother 
of  camphire  in  the  vineyards  of  Engedi ;  and  by 
reason  of  the  privileges  granted  by  the  kings,  a 
city  of  grace  and  safety  to  all  who  repent." 

As  they  drew  near,  they  passed  every  minute 
some  fisher's  log  canoe,  in  which  worked  with  net 
or  line  the  criminal  who  had  saved  his  life  by  flee- 
ing to  St.  Guthlac,  and  becoming  his  man  forth- 
with ;  the  slave  who  had  fled  from  his  master's 
cruelty;  and  here  and  there  in  those  evil  days, 
the  master  who  had  fled  from  the  cruelty  of 
Frenchmen,  who  would  have  done  to  him  as  he 
had  done  to  others.  But  there  all  old  grudges 
were  put  away.  They  had  sought  the  peace  of  St. 
Guthlac ;  and  therefore  they  must  keep  his  peace ; 
and  get  their  living  from  the  fish  of  the  five  rivers, 
within  the  bounds  whereof  was  peace,  as  of  their 
own  quiet  streams ;  for  the  abbot  and  St.  Guthlac 
were  the  only  lords  thereof,  and  neither  summoner 
nor  sheriff  of  the  king,  nor  armed  force  of  knight 
or  earl,  could  enter  there. 

At  last  they  came  to  Crowland  minster :  a  vast 
range  of  high-peaked  buildings,  founded  on  piles 
of  oak  and  alder  driven  into  the  fen  —  itself  built 
almost  entirely  of  timber  from  the  Bruneswold ; 
barns,  granaries,  stables,  workshops,  stranger's  hall, 
fit  for  the  boundless  hospitality  of  Crowland  ;  infirm- 
ary, refectory,  dormitory,  library,  abbot's  lodgings, 
cloisters;  with  the  great  minster  towering  up,  a 
steep  pile,  half  wood,  half  stone,  with  narrow 


3i8 


Hereward  the  Wake 


round-headed  windows,  and  leaden  roofs,  and, 
above  all,  the  great  wooden  tower,  from  which,  on 
high  days,  chimed  out  the  melody  of  the  seven 
famous  bells,  which  had  not  their  like  in  English 
land.  Guthlac,  Bartholomew,  and  Bettelm  were  the 
names  of  the  biggest,  Turketul  and  Tatwin  of  the 
middle,  and  Pega  and  Bega  of  the  smallest.  So  says 
Ingulph,  who  saw  them  a  few  years  after  pouring 
down  on  his  own  head  in  streams  of  melted  metal. 
Outside  the  minster  walls  were  the  cottages  of  the 
corrodiers,  or  folk  who,  for  a  corrody,  or  life  pit- 
tance from  the  abbey,  had  given  away  their  lands  j1 
beyond  them  again  the  natural  park  of  grass, 
dotted  with  mighty  oaks  and  ashes ;  and  beyond 
all  those,  cornlands  of  inexhaustible  fertility,  broken 
up  by  the  good  Abbot  Egelric  some  hundred  years 
before,  from  which,  in  times  of  dearth,  the  monks 
of  Crowland  fed  the  people  of  all  the  neighboring 
fens. 

1  This  fashion  of  Corrody  was  one  which  brought  much  land 
to  monks,  and  grudging  to  heirs-at-law.  As  an  instance  — 
Geoffrey  de  Brachecourt  and  his  wife,  a  few  years  after,  gave 
(with  consent  of  Alan  de  Morton,  his  nephew  and  heir,  and 
Gilbert  of  Ghent,  his  feudal  lord)  his  township  of  Brachecourt  or 
Brathwaite  to  the  Cistercian  Monks  of  Vauldey,  now  Grimsthorpe 
Park,  on  the  following  conditions :  That  his  wife  should  have 
clothing  of  bluet  and  lambs'  skins;  and  he  of  grising  or  hal- 
bergit  and  lambs'  skins ;  and  that  their  food  should  be  such  as 
the  monks  had.  Their  two  servants  were  to  fare  the  same 
as  those  of  the  brotherhood.  The  opinion  of  Alan  de  Morton 
concerning  such  a  bargain  may  be  guessed,  at  least  by  those 
who  are  aware  that  it  was  made  for  the  purpose  of  escaping 
certain  years  of  purgatory ;  i.  e.  of  burning  alive  in  the  next  world. 

When  we  talk  of  the  piety  of  our  ancestors  in  giving  lands 
to  the  church,  we  should  always  remember  that  this  was  what 
their  piety  too  often  signified.  When  we  complain  of  the 
squires,  in  Edward  the  Sixth's  time,  for  taking  back  the 
treasures  and  lands  of  the  monasteries,  we  should  remember 
that  they  had  been  got  from  those  squires'  forefathers,  on  such 
grounds  as  these,  and  no  other. 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    3 1 9 

They  went  into  the  great  courtyard.  All  men 
were  quiet,  yet  all  men  were  busy;  baking  and 
brewing,  carpentering  and  tailoring,  in  the  work- 
shops ;  reading  and  writing  in  the  cloister ;  praying 
and  singing  in  the  church ;  and  teaching  the  chil- 
dren in  the  schoolhouse.  Only  the  ancient  sem- 
pects  —  some  near  upon  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
old  —  wandered  where  they  would,  or  basked 
against  a  sunny  wall,  like  autumn  flies ;  each  with 
a  young  monk  to  guide  him  and  listen  to  his 
tattle  of  old  days.  For,  said  the  laws  of  Turketul 
the  good,  "  Nothing  disagreeable  about  the  affairs 
of  the  monastery  shall  be  mentioned  in  their  pres- 
ence. No  person  shall  presume  in  any  way  to 
offend  them :  but  with  the  greatest  peace  and  tran- 
quillity they  shall  await  their  end." 

So  while  the  world  outside  raged,  and  fought, 
and  conquered,  and  plundered,  they  within  the 
holy  isle  kept  up  some  sort  of  order,  and  justice, 
and  usefulness,  and  love  to  God  and  man.  And 
about  the  yards,  among  the  feet  of  the  monks, 
hopped  the  sacred  ravens,  descendants  of  those 
who  brought  back  the  gloves  at  St.  Guthlac's  bid- 
ding; and  overhead,  under  all  the  eaves,  built  the 
sacred  swallows,  the  descendants  of  those  who  sat 
and  sang  upon  St.  Guthlac's  shoulders ;  and  when 
men  marvelled  thereat,  he  the  holy  man  replied, 
"  Know  that  they  who  live  the  holy  life  draw  nearer 
to  the  birds  of  the  air,  even  as  they  do  to  the  angels 
in  heaven." 

And  Lady  Godiva  called  for  old  Abbot  Ulfketyl, 
the  good  and  brave ;  and  fell  upon  his  neck,  and 
told  him  all  her  tale ;  and  Ulfketyl  wept  upon  her 
neck,  for  they  were  old  and  faithful  friends. 

And   they  passed    into   the  dark  cool  church, 


320  Hereward  the  Wake 

where,  in  the  crypt  under  the  high  altar,  lay  the 
thumb  of  St.  Bartholomew,  which  old  Abbot 
Turketul  used  to  carry  about,  that  he  might  cross 
himself  with  it  in  times  of  danger,  tempest,  and 
lightning;  and  some  of  the  hair  of  St.  Mary, 
Queen  of  Heaven,  in  a  box  of  gold ;  and  a  bone 
of  St.  Leodegar  of  Aquitaine ;  and  some  few  re- 
mains, too,  of  the  holy  bodies  of  St.  Guthlac,  and 
of  St.  Bettelm,  his  servant,  and  St.  Tatwin,  who 
steered  him  to  Crowland,  and  St.  Egbert  his  con- 
fessor, and  St.  Cissa  the  anchorite,  and  of  the  most 
holy  virgin  St.  Etheldreda,  and  many  more.  But 
little  of  them  remained  since  Sigtryg  and  Bagsac's 
heathen  Danes  had  heaped  them  pell-mell  on  the 
floor,  and  burned  the  church  over  them  and  the 
bodies  of  the  slaughtered  monks. 

The  plunder  which  was  taken  from  Crowland  on 
that  evil  day  lay,  and  lies  still,  with  the  plunder  of 
Peterborough  and  many  a  minster  more,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Ouse  at  Huntingdon  Bridge.  But  it 
had  been  more  than  replaced  by  the  piety  of  the 
Danish  kings  and  nobles;  and  above  the  twelve 
white  bearskins  which  lay  at  the  twelve  altars, 
blazed,  in  the  light  of  many  a  wax  candle,  gold 
and  jewels  inferior  only  to  those  of  Peterborough 
and  Coventry. 

And  there  in  the  nave  they  buried  the  lad  God- 
win, with  chant  and  dirge ;  and  when  the  funeral 
was  done,  Hereward  went  up  toward  the  high 
altar,  and  bade  Winter  and  Gwenoch  come  with 
him.  And  there  he  knelt,  and  vowed  a  vow  to 
God  and  St.  Guthlac  and  the  Lady  Torfrida,  his 
true  love,  never  to  leave  from  slaying  while  there 
was  a  Frenchman  left  alive  on  English  ground. 

And  Godiva  and  Ulfketyl  heard  his  vow,  and 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    321 

shuddered :  but  they  dared  not  stop  him,  for  they 
too  had  English  hearts. 

And  Winter  and  Gwenoch  heard  it,  and  repeated 
it  word  for  word. 

Then  he  kissed  his  mother,  and  called  Winter 
and  Gwenoch,  and  went  forth.  He  would  be  back 
again,  he  said,  on  the  third  day. 

Then  those  three  went  to  Peterborough,  and 
asked  for  Abbot  Brand.  And  the  monks  let  them 
in ;  for  the  fame  of  their  deed  had  passed  through 
the  forest,  and  all  the  French  had  fled. 

And  old  Brand  lay  back  in  his  great  arm-chair, 
his  legs  all  muffled  up  in  furs,  for  he  could  get  no 
heat;  and  by  him  stood  Herluin  the  prior,  and 
wondered  when  he  would  die,  and  Thorold  take 
his  place,  and  they  should  drive  out  the  old  Gre- 
gorian chants  from  the  choir,  and  have  the  new 
Norman  chants  of  Robert  of  F6camp,  and  bring  in 
French-Roman  customs  in  all  things,  and  rule  the 
English  boors  with  a  rod  of  iron. 

And  old  Brand  knew  all  that  was  in  his  heart,  and 
looked  up  like  a  patient  ox  beneath  the  butcher's 
axe,  and  said,  "  Have  patience  with  me,  brother 
Herluin,  and  I  will  die  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  go 
where  there  is  neither  French  nor  English,  Jew  nor 
Gentile,  bond  nor  free,  but  all  are  alike  in  the  eyes 
of  Him  who  made  them." 

But  when  he  saw  Hereward  come  in,  he  cast 
the  mufflers  off  him,  and  sprang  up  from  his  chair, 
and  was  young  and  strong  in  a  moment,  and  for  a 
moment. 

And  he  threw  his  arms  round  Hereward,  and 
wept  upon  his  neck,  as  his  mother  had  done.  And 
Hereward  wept  upon  his  neck,  though  he  had  not 
wept  upon  his  mother's. 


322  Hereward  the  Wake 

Then  Brand  held  him  at  arm's  length,  or  thought 
he  held  him ;  for  he  was  leaning  on  Hereward,  and 
tottering  all  the  while;  and  extolled  him  as  the 
champion,  the  warrior,  the  stay  of  his  house,  the 
avenger  of  his  kin,  the  hero  of  whom  he  had  always 
prophesied  that  his  kin  would  need  him,  and  that 
then  he  would  not  fail. 

But  Hereward  answered  him  modestly  and 
mildly,  — 

"  Speak  not  so  to  me  and  of  me,  Uncle  Brand. 
I  am  a  very  foolish,  vain,  sinful  man,  who  have 
come  through  great  adventures,  I  know  not  how, 
to  great  and  strange  happiness ;  and  now  again  to 
great  and  strange  sorrows,  and  to  an  adventure 
greater  and  stranger  than  all  that  has  befallen  me 
from  my  youth  up  until  now.  Therefore  make  me 
not  proud,  Uncle  Brand,  but  keep  me  modest  and 
lowly,  as  befits  all  true  knights  and  penitent  sin- 
ners ;  for  they  tell  me  that  God  resists  the  proud, 
and  giveth  grace  to  the  humble.  And  I  have  that 
to  do  which  do  I  cannot,  unless  God  and  His  saint 
give  me  grace  from  this  day  forth." 

Brand  looked  at  him,  astonished;  and  then 
turned  to  Herluin. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  prior?  This  is  the  lad  whom 
you  called  graceless  and  a  savage ;  and  see,  since 
he  has  been  in  foreign  lands,  and  seen  the  ways  of 
knights,  he  talks  as  clerkly  as  a  Frenchman,  and 
as  piously  as  any  monk." 

"  The  Lord  Hereward,"  said  Herluin,  "  has  doubt- 
less learned  much  from  the  manners  of  our  nation 
which  he  would  not  have  learned  in  England.  I 
rejoice  to  see  him  returned  so  Christian  and  so 
courtly  a  knight." 


How  Hcreward  was  Made  a  Knight    323 

"The  Lord  Hereward,  Prior  Herluin,  has  learnt 
one  thing  in  his  travels, — to  know  somewhat  of 
men  and  the  hearts  of  men,  and  to  deal  with  them 
as  they  deserve  of  him.  They  tell  me  that  one 
Thorold  of  Malmesbury,  —  Thorold  of  Fecamp, 
the  minstrel,  he  that  made  the  song  of  Roland,  — 
that  he  desires  this  abbey." 

"  I  have  so  heard,  my  lord." 

"Then  I  command  —  I,  Hereward,  Lord  of 
Bourne  —  that  this  abbey  be  held  against  him  and 
all  Frenchmen,  in  the  name  of  Swend  Ulfsson,  king 
of  England,  and  of  me.  And  he  that  admits  a 
Frenchman  therein,  I  will  shave  his  crown  for  him 
so  well,  that  he  shall  never  need  razor  more.  This 
I  tell  thee ;  and  this  I  shall  tell  thy  monks  before 
I  go.  And  unless  you  obey  the  same,  my  dream 
will  be  fulfilled ;  and  you  will  see  Goldenborough 
in  a  light  low,  and  yourselves  burning  in  the  midst 
thereof." 

"  Swend  Ulfsson?  Swend  of  Denmark?  What 
words  are  these?"  cried  Brand. 

"  You  will  know  within  six  months,  uncle." 

"  I  shall  know  better  things,  my  boy,  before  six 
months  are  out." 

"  Uncle,  uncle,  do  not  say  that." 

"Why  not?  If  this  mortal  life  be  at  best  a 
prison  and  a  grave,  what  is  it  worth  now  to  an 
Englishman?" 

"  More  thafl  ever ;  for  never  had  an  Englishman 
such  a  chance  of  showing  English  mettle,  and 
winning  renown  for  the  English  name.  Uncle, 
you  must  do  something  for  me  and  my  comrades 
ere  we  go." 

"Well,  boy?" 

"  Make  us  knights." 


324  Hereward  the  Wake 

"Knights,  lad?  I  thought  you  had  been  a 
belted  knight  this  dozen  years? 

"  I  might  have  been  made  a  knight  by  many, 
after  the  French  fashion,  many  a  year  agone.  I 
might  have  been  knight  when  I  slew  the  white 
bear.  Ladies  have  prayed  me  to  be  knighted 
again  and  again  since.  Something  kept  me  from 
it  Perhaps  "  (with  a  glance  at  Herluin)  "  I  wanted 
to  show  that  an  English  squire  could  be  the  rival 
and  the  leader  of  French  and  Flemish  knights." 

"And  thou  hast  shown  it,  brave  lad,"  said 
Brand,  clapping  his  great  hands. 

"  Perhaps  I  longed  to  do  some  mighty  deed  at 
last,  which  would  give  me  a  right  to  go  to  the 
bravest  knight  in  all  Christendom,  and  say,  Give 
me  the  accolade,  then  !  Thou  only  art  worthy  to 
knight  as  good  a  man  as  thyself." 

"  Pride  and  vainglory,"  said  Brand,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  But  now  I  am  of  a  sounder  mind.  I  see  now 
why  I  was  kept  from  being  knighted  —  till  I  had 
done  a  deed  worthy  of  a  true  knight ;  till  I  had 
mightily  avenged  the  wronged,  and  mightily  suc- 
cored the  oppressed ;  till  I  had  purged  my  soul 
of  my  enmity  against  my  own  kin,  and  could 
go  out  into  the  world  a  new  man,  with  my  mother's 
blessing  on  my  head." 

"  But  not  of  the  robbery  of  St  Peter,"  said  Her- 
luin. The  French  monk  wanted  not  for  moral 
courage:  no  French  monk  did  in  those  days. 
And  he  proved  it  by  those  words. 

"  Do  not  anger  the  lad,  prior ;  now,  too,  above 
all  times,  when  his  heart  is  softened  towards  the 
Lord." 

"He  has  not  angered  me.     The  man  is   right 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    325 

Here,  lord  abbot,  and  sir  prior,  is  a  chain  of 
gold,  won  in  the  wars.  It  is  worth  fifty  times  the 
sixteen  pence  which  I  stole,  and  which  I  repaid 
double.  Let  St.  Peter  take  it,  for  the  sins  of  me 
and  my  two  comrades,  and  forgive.  And  now,  sir 
prior,  I  do  to  thee  what  I  never  did  for  mortal 
man.  I  kneel  and  ask  thy  forgiveness.  Kneel, 
Winter !  Kneel,  Gwenoch  !  "  And  Hereward  knelt. 

Herluin  was  of  double  mind.  He  longed  to 
keep  Hereward  out  of  St.  Peter's  grace.  He 
longed  to  see  Hereward  dead  at  his  feet :  not  be- 
cause of  any  personal  hatred,  but  because  he  fore- 
saw in  him  a  terrible  foe  to  the  Norman  cause. 
But  he  wished,  too,  to  involve  Abbot  Brand  as 
much  as  possible  in  Hereward's  rebellions  and 
misdeeds,  and  above  all,  in  the  master-offence  of 
knighting  him ;  for  for  that  end,  he  saw,  Hereward 
was  come.  Moreover,  he  was  touched  with  the 
sudden  frankness  and  humility  of  the  famous 
champion.  So  he  answered  mildly  — 

"  Verily,  thou  hast  a  knightly  soul.  May  God 
and  St.  Peter  so  forgive  thee  and  thy  companions 
as  I  forgive  thee,  freely  and  from  my  heart." 

"  Now,"  cried  Hereward ;  "  A  boon  !  a  boon ! 
Knight  me  and  these  my  fellows,  Uncle  Brand, 
this  day." 

Brand  was  old  and  weak;  and  looked  at 
Herluin. 

"  I  know,"  said  Hereward,  "  that  the  French 
look  on  us  English  monk-made  knights  as  spuri- 
ous and  adulterine,  unworthy  of  the  name  of 
knight.  But,  I  hold  —  and  what  churchman  will 
gainsay  me?  —  that  it  is  nobler  to  receive  sword 
and  belt  from  a  man  of  God  than  from  a  man  of 
blood  like  one's  self;  for  the  fittest  man  to  conse- 


326  Hereward  the  Wake 

crate  the  soldier  of  an  earthly  king  is  the  soldier 
of  Christ  the  King  of  kings." l 

"He  speaks  well,"  said  Herluin.  "Abbot, 
grant  him  his  boon." 

"Who  celebrates  high  mass  to-morrow?" 

"  Wilton,  the  priest,  the  monk  of  Ely,"  said  Her- 
luin, aloud.  "  And  a  very  dangerous  and  stubborn 
Englishman,"  added  he  to  himself. 

"  Good.  Then  this  night  you  shall  watch  in  the 
church.  To-morrow,  after  the  Gospel,  the  thing 
shall  be  done  as  you  will." 

That  night  two  messengers,  knights  of  the 
abbot,  galloped  from  Peterborough.  One  rode 
to  Ivo  Taillebois  at  Spalding,  to  tell  him  that 
Hereward  was  at  Peterborough ;  and  that  he  must 
try  to  cut  him  off  upon  the  Egelric's  road,  the 
causeway  which  one  of  the  many  abbots  Egelric 
had  made,  some  thirty  years  before,  through  Deep- 
ing Fen  to  Spalding,  at  an  enormous  expense  of 
labor  and  of  timber.  The  other  knight  rode  south, 
along  the  Roman  road  to  London,  to  tell  King 
William  of  the  rising  of  Kesteven,  and  all  the  evil 
deeds  of  Hereward  and  of  Brand. 

And  old  Brand  slept  quietly  in  his  bed,  little 
thinking  on  what  errands  his  prior  had  sent  his 
knights. 

Hereward  and  his  comrades  watched  that  night 
in  St.  Peter's  Church.  Oppressed  with  weariness  of 
body,  and  awe  of  mind,  they  heard  the  monks 
drone  out  their  chants  through  the  misty  gloom ; 
they  confessed  the  sins  —  and  they  were  many  — 
of  their  past  wild  lives.  They  had  to  summon  up 
within  themselves  courage  and  strength  henceforth 
to  live,  not  for  themselves,  but  for  the  fatherland 
1  Almost  word  for  word  from  the  "  Life  of  Hereward." 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    3  27 

which  they  hoped  to  save.  They  prayed  to  all 
the  heavenly  powers  of  that  Pantheon  which  then 
stood  between  man  and  God,  to  help  them  in  the 
coming  struggle :  but  ere  the  morning  dawned, 
they  were  nodding,  unused  to  any  long  strain  of 
mind. 

Suddenly  Hereward  started,  and  sprang  up, 
with  a  cry  of  fire. 

"What?  Where?"  cried  his  comrades;  while 
the  monks  ran  up.  , 

"  The  minster  is  full  of  flame.  No  use,  too  late, 
you  cannot  put  it  out.  It  must  burn." 

"  You  have  been  dreaming,"  said  one. 

"  I  have  not,"  said  Hereward.  "  Is  it  Lammas 
night?" 

"  What  a  question !  It  is  the  vigil  of  the 
Nativity  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul." 

"  Thank  heaven ;  I  thought  my  old  Lammas 
night's  dream  was  coming  true  at  last." 

Herluin  heard,  and  knew  what  he  meant. 

After  which  Hereward  was  silent,  filled  with 
many  thoughts. 

The  next  morning,  before  the  high  mass,  those 
three  brave  men  walked  up  to  the  altar ;  laid  there- 
on their  belts  and  swords ;  and  then  knelt  humbly 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps  till  the  Gospel  was  finished. 

Then  came  down  from  the  altar  Wilton  of  Ely, 
and  laid  on  each  man's  bare  neck  the  bare  blade, 
and  bade  him  take  back  his  sword  in  the  name  of 
God  and  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  use  it  like 
a  true  knight,  for  a  terror  and  punishment  to  evil 
doers,  and  a  defence  for  women  and  orphans,  and 
the  poor  and  the  oppressed,  and  the  monks  the 
servants  of  God. 

And  then  the  monks  girded  each  man  with  his 


328  Hereward  the  Wake 

belt  and  sword  once  more.  And  after  mass  was 
sung,  they  rose,  each  feeling  himself —  and  surely 
not  in  vain  —  a  better  man. 

At  least  this  is  certain,  that  Hereward  would  say 
to  his  dying  day,  how  he  had  often  proved  that 
none  would  fight  so  well  as  those  who  had  received 
their  sword  from  God's  knights  the  monks.  There- 
fore he  would  have,  in  after  years,  almosf  all  his 
companions  knighted  by  the  monks;  and  he 
brought  into  Ely  with  him  that  same  good  cus- 
tom which  he  had  learned  at  Peterborough,  and 
kept  it  up  as  long  as  he  held  the  isle. 

Then  he  said,  — 

41  Have  your  monks  a  limner  here,  who  can 
paint  for  me?" 

"  That  can  I,"  said  Wilton  of  Ely. 

"  Then  take  my  shield,  and  raze  from  it  this 
bear  which  I  carry." 

Wilton  brought  pencil  and  paint,  and  did  so. 

"Now,  paint  me  in  a  W,  that  shall  stand  for 
Wake;  and  make  it  —  make  it  out  of  the  knots  of 
a  monk's  girdle,  for  a  sign  that  I  am  a  monk's 
knight,  and  not  a  king's ;  and  that  I  am  the  cham- 
pion of  the  monks  of  England  against  the  monks 
of  France,  from  this  time  forth  for  evermore." 

Wilton  did  it;  and  made  out  of  two  monks' 
girdles  none  other  than  the  after-famous  Wake 
knot. 

"  Now  do  the  same  by  Winter  and  Gwenoch's 
shields.  Monks'  knights  are  we;  and  monks' 
battles  we  will  fight." 

"  You  must  have  a  motto  to  match  withal,  my 
good  lord,"  said  Wilton,  throwing  his  English 
heart  into  the  work. 

44 What  better    than   my   own    name  —  Wake? 


How  Hereward  was  Made  a  Knight    329 

These  are  times  in  which  good  Englishmen  must 
not  sleep  —  and  sleep  I  will  not,  trust  me;  nor 
mine,  either." 

"  Vigila,  that  will  be  in  Latin." 

"  Ay  —  let  us  have  Latin ;  and  show  these 
Frenchmen  that  we  are  clerks  and  gentlemen,  as 
well  as  they." 

"  Vigila  .  .  .  et  Ora,"  said  the  monk,  solemnly. 
"  Watch  and  pray,  lest  thou  enter  into  temptation." 

"  Watch  —  and  pray.  Thou  speakest  like  a  man 
of  God,"  said  Hereward,  half  sadly.  "  Thou  hast 
said :  so  be  it.  God  knows,  I  have  need  of  that 
too,  if  only  I  knew  how.  But  I  will  watch,  and  my 
wife  shall  pray ;  and  so  will  the  work  be  well  parted 
between  us." 

And  so  was  born  the  Wake  motto,  and  the  Wake 
knot. 

It  was  late  when  they  got  back  to  Crowland. 
The  good  abbot  received  them  with  a  troubled 
face. 

"  As  I  feared,  my  lord,  you  have  been  too  hot 
and  hasty.  The  French  have  raised  the  country 
against  you." 

"  I  have  raised  it  against  them,  my  lord." 

"  But  we  have  news  that  Sir  Frederick " 

"  And  who  may  he  be?  " 

"  A  very  terrible  Goliath  of  these  French ;  old 
and  crafty;  a  brother  of  old  Earl  Warrenne  of 
Norfolk,  whom  God  confound.  And  he  has  sworn 
to  have  your  life,  and  has  gathered  knights  and 
men-at-arms  at  Lynn  in  Norfolk." 

"  Very  good ;  I  will  visit  him  as  I  go  home,  lord 
abbot.  Not  a  word  of  this  to  any  soul." 

"  I  tremble  for  thee,  thou  young  David." 

"  One  cannot  live  forever,  my  lord.     Farewell." 

Vol.12— O 


330  Hereward  the  Wake 

A  week  after  a  boatman  brought  news  to  Crow- 
land  how  Sir  Frederick  was  sitting  in  his  inn  at 
Lynn,  when  there  came  in  one  with  a  sword,  and 
said,  "  I  am  Hereward  the  Wake.  I  was  told  that 
thou  didst  desire  greatly  to  see  me;  therefore  I 
am  come,  being  a  courteous  knight,"  and  therewith 
smote  off  his  head.  And  when  the  knights  and 
others  would  have  stopped  him,  he  cut  his  way 
through  them,  killing  some  three  or  four  at  each 
stroke,  himself  unhurt ;  for  he  was  clothed  from 
head  to  foot  in  magic  armor,  and  whosoever  smote 
it,  their  swords  melted  in  their  hands.  And  so 
gaining  the  door,  he  vanished  in  a  great  cloud  of 
sea-fowl,  that  cried  forever  "  The  Wake  is  come 
again." 

And  after  that  the  fen-men  said  to  each  other, 
that  all  the  birds  upon  the  meres  cried  nothing 
save  "The  Wake  is  come  again." 

And  so,  already  surrounded  with  myth  and 
mystery,  Hereward  flashed  into  the  fens  and  out 
again,  like  the  lightning  brand,  destroying  as  he 
passed.  And  the  hearts  of  all  the  French  were 
turned  to  water ;  and  the  land  had  peace  from  its 
tyrants  for  many  days. 


END  OF  VOL.  L 


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